Merry Christmas Mr Malfoy
by Emerald-Kisses
Summary: Granger, there's nothing special about Christmas. Christmas doesn't exist for us!" "How very sad."-Draco Malfoy has never had a real Christmas and Hermione Granger has taken it upon herself to give him his first real Christmas. Dramione. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue: A Sigh

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for the plot. I am poor.**

**Note: this is not Epilogue compatible and it is DH compatible save for a couple of changes. Also, a slight time-change has been made, explanations for such will be found at the end of this chapter. **

**To those who have **_**still**_** not read Deathly Hallows, there will be spoilers, so please, read at your own risk. **

**Note: thanks to Hecate's Diamon who pointed out a very silly mistake by me. I wrote "Enchanted Forest" while it is actually "Forbidden Forest." For that, you get my eternal love (or, if you want, I can somehow get you a piece of lemon pie for future chapters...)**

**Another note: Thanks to crayonbird who pointed out an incredibly silly mistake of mine concerning dates mentioned in the chapter! I was supposed to write 2006 not 1997! Thank you very much! 3  
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**Prologue**

**A Sigh**

All love stories begin with the smallest, most insignificant things. Cecilia and Robbie's story in Atonement began with a vase, a struggle witnessed by the innocent, youthful eyes of a young girl. Some stories, like that of Romeo and Juliet, began with a glance, a simple look that established a love so powerful that even death could not separate their hearts. Other stories began with a dance, a touch, a song, or even other insignificant objects, such as a slipper or an apple. But, while these items seemed to useless at the time, they always began something indescribably powerful that not even the strongest of forces would be able to pull it apart.

Love.

This story, like most others, began with something small and insignificant. It, like all others, began on a normal day, and it, like the others, began between two people who, while they knew of each other, barely knew each other.

This story began with a sigh.

* * *

It was snowing outside. Large, thick, white flakes of snow fell from the gray skies and landed softly on the ground below. Despite the chill, various bodies rushed out, black dots against the glistening white blanket, every form enjoying the cool feel of the soft snow against their cheeks. They ignored the sudden breeze and the way the snow cooled their flesh; they were caught in the beauty of the world and the simple, childish love of playing in the snow.

Her eyes watched them, following their movement, trying to discern the faces of the students, wondering just which ones were her friends and which were not. However, she would have to admit that, in these days, there were very few people who were unfriendly.

Sitting in the refurbished and newly reconstructed tower, she let her thoughts drift back, the memories resurfacing as she reminded herself of just what had happened in the past two years.

The war had taken time to end, the final, massive battle taking place in the very building she was now sheltered in. It had been violent; the air had reeked of death and felt almost humid or moist with blood and tears. In that momentous battle, Neville had, in the name of Harry, destroyed the last Horcrux, inhibiting the death of the greatest threat to all mankind.

During this final standoff, the last fight between good and evil, a man showed his true colours and betrayed people who he once claimed to love and adore. With this betrayal came the death of evil.

Then, once the stench of evil and fear no longer permeated the air, the long recovery began its process. It took them two whole years to reconstruct the school, mourn for the dead, and round up the remaining threat. Now, while joy was slowly beginning to fill the air, the world was still having troubles repairing itself.

As she watched the joyful students below, playing happily in the snow, they knew that, beyond their smiles, there was an incessant amount of worry. Poverty had nearly consumed the land, pulling many rich families into debt and impoverished states of living, while helping poorer families surge up in the socioeconomic ranks.

She knew just why this had occurred; many of the richer families had either been Death Eaters or associated with Death Eaters, which caused them to lose all credibility, thus ended up with the parents losing their jobs and connections they used to heavily rely on.

For the poor families, however, the opposite happened. This only occurred if they were instrumental in the destruction of Voldemort and his minions, meaning that, if all they did was say "Go Harry" or show barely any support, they received barely any compensation from the Ministry. Those families that did, however, prove to be extremely useful during the Second Great War were given large compensations and higher positions in the Ministry.

Glancing down at the book before her, she recalled briefly how families were still being compensated for their losses; the Ministry only had so much money and there were hundreds of families without fathers or mothers or children. Hundreds upon hundreds had died in the War, fighting or being tortured to death. The numbers were still being tallied and names were still left unknown.

Hogwarts, however, had found a large increase of students this year, she noted as she glanced back out of the window. Specifically, there was three times the amount of first years as there used to be; since the school had been shut for two years, the first years from 2006, the eleven-year-old of 2007, and finally the eleven-year-olds of this year (2008) were all First Years at Hogwarts.

This, however, was no problem, seeing as many other students had lost their lives in the Second Great Battle or they had simply not returned to school. Every student from 2006 had been asked to return to Hogwarts and repeat their year. At least, every student that remained alive was.

Shutting her eyes softly, she willed to push the face of Colin Creevey out of her mind, forcing herself to become emotionally numb to the War and its consequences. Dwelling on the past would do nothing but bring more misery to her life and she could not afford to allow her mind to stray to miserable, melancholic thoughts.

Especially since it was the first week of December and Christmas was fast approaching.

This one word, the thought of this one day, succeeded in pushing away all depressive thoughts and unadulterated joy began to filter into her mind. It felt as bright as the newly fallen snow; Christmas was coming and she refused to let any thoughts of the past destroy her excitement.

Suddenly, her thoughts became immersed in swirling Christmas lights, the sights and sounds of Christmas, the smell of cookies baking in the oven, the sound of caroling, and the sight of joy spread all across the land. If there was one day out of the year that could push everyone from the brink of depression, it was Christmas.

A smile toyed with her lips, her eyes remaining shut as she became to daydream about that beautiful holiday and the happiness it brought to the world.

She loved Christmas; she loved decorating, shopping for gifts, and baking the sweetest goodies. She thrived in the smell of pine and the soft glow the lights would create at night. She loved spending the Eve sitting in front of a fire, munching on candies with her family and loved ones as they began to dream of what the next day would bring.

Hermione Granger loved Christmas.

It was then, at that precise moment in time that the story truly began; for it was at that moment that a soft sigh decided to escape her lips and cause a series of events to fall into motion.

Sitting back on her chair, keeping her eyes shut as she allowed the reveries to remain within her mind, she let out the quietest and most contented of sighs.

"What do you sound so happy about, Granger?"

Her eyes flung open at the sound of the familiar male voice. In another time, she would reply sharply and crudely back, or she would have gnawed on her lower lip in anxiety as she fought for a sarcastically witty remark. But now, in this day and age, she was too consumed by peaceful thoughts to even consider retorting.

"Christmas, Malfoy," she said softly, moving around her seat to face the blond-haired man lounging on the couch. A book lay discarded on his chest, his attention having been obviously drawn to her when the sigh had sounded.

A scowl twisted his fair features, eyes darkening and narrowing as though she had just said the most vehement things imaginable to him.

"What's so special about Christmas?"

Hermione sighed once again, wondering just how she could put into words the sheer joy the holiday caused her to experience. Her fellow student and Head (it was true, Hermione Granger as Head Girl and Draco Malfoy was Head Boy, as was anticipated since their arrival at the school) watched her from across the room, waiting patiently for her response.

Again, in another time and age, she would have not even bothered sitting in the same room as him; in the other time and age, they had been sworn enemies and death would have certainly occurred on their first day of cohabitation. However, this was a new day and age, and they were no longer sworn enemies. On their first day, they had established a quiet truce, trying their hardest not to argue childishly and to try and establish some form of acquaintance or, if possible, friendship. So far so good, with the exception of a few arguments, no one had been taken to the Hospital Wing just yet.

Yet.

"Everything, Malfoy," she placed her bookmark on the page and shut her school book, "everything single thing about Christmas is special."

A brow lifted itself in curiosity as the blond sat up, forgetting completely about the book on his chest as it slid down to land into his lap. Even sitting up, his tall, lean body took over the entire couch, his feet having been hanging off the end when he'd been lying down.

"Granger, you do know that that is not a real answer." His lips formed a small smile as he spoke the words. "I require all answers to my questions to be given in clear and concise detail."

"This," she gestured towards him with the quill she had been picking up, "is why I think that, despite your faults, you could be a decent Professor." A faint blush darkened her cheeks as the intimate words and she turned back to gathering her study material. "Aside from that, I suppose I will be forced to admit that I am unsure of how to answer your question."

He lifted his book, folding the corner of the page as he shut it, and waited patiently for her to continue. His stare said everything he was thinking, putting words into actions as she watched him from her seat. She knew that she would have to find some way to answer his question sooner or later.

"Come here," she said softly after a moment's hesitation. While they were familiar with one another, more prone to friendly conversation than they had been beforehand, she still felt slightly intimidated by his presence and uneasy when he moved in too close. Perhaps it was the simple invasion of her personal space by an outsider, or perhaps it was due to something entirely different, she wasn't sure.

Getting up, he unfolded his 6'3" body and glided over to where she sat. Yes, Draco Malfoy did not stomp or walk like any other male she knew; he had a tendency to move slowly, gliding in a way that made her think of a predator on the prowl. His footsteps were quiet, his long legs moving in precise, smooth strokes as he made his way over to her.

Standing before her, he arched a brow down at her seated form, and promptly frowned when she gestured for him to look out of the window.

He was met by the sight of freshly fallen snow blanketing the Forbidden Forest, glistening as it fell and covered the ground below. He followed the flakes' journey down to earth, watching as dozens of black forms moved across the lawn, sending snow spraying and flying with their childish and erratic movements.

"It's snowing out," he stated calmly. "What's so special about snow and the fools who like to freeze their arses off by playing in it?"

Fighting the urge to slap his arm childishly, Hermione frowned up at him as he began to move away from the window. "Malfoy, can't you see how beautiful it is?"

"Not exactly," he replied, heading back to his seat by the fire, "it just see bland grey skies, cold shit, and a bunch of gits trying to see who can get frostbite first."

She couldn't help it; she felt her mouth drop open as his cold, emotionless words hit her ears. Never before had she met someone who seemed to adamantly hateful towards snow and the joy it created. Yes, it was true that they were nineteen now, perhaps far too old to be playing in the snow, but Hermione still found that freshly fallen snow brought out a childish side in her that remained hidden the remainder of her life.

"Are you telling me that you never played in the snow as a child? Never built a snow fort and had a snowball fight? Never made snow angels or built a pathetic excuse of a snowman?"

When he slowly nodded his head, she felt her jaw drop further. She fought for a response, trying to find something to do or say that might help him see the beauty of snow. She could barely comprehend just how any human being might come to despise snow and the beauty of it.

"So…you're telling me that you've never enjoyed snow? At all?" She had to be certain, had to know for sure that her suspicions were true.

He paused in his steps to turn and shake his head at her. "Never." He glanced nonchalantly out of the window, not a single ounce of mirth or jealousy in his grey eyes. They were cold and lifeless, almost numb or emotionless.

She wondered, briefly, if he ever felt a single cheerful emotion. The only emotion she'd ever seen him experience was anger. Any laughter was derived from cruelty, every smile was arrogant and haughty, and, not once, did any of those smiles reach his eyes and make them glow.

"Why?"

She wasn't sure if it was a question to his answer or another question entirely; a sudden need to know why he never smiled.

But that discussion, she noted as she tried to sort and file the subject away in her mind, would come at another time, when she knew more and understood less.

He glanced briefly at her before returning to his seat on the couch. Once seated, he gathered the book, adjusted cushions, and performed a variety of little tasks that, at any other time, would seem typical or meaningless.

Hermione, however, knew that he was stalling for time, for, the first time since she met the cool-hearted Malfoy; she saw something other than arrogance and selfish anger in his grey eyes.

What it was, she wasn't sure, but she would eventually find out.

Crossing her arms, filed away her more intimate and deeper thoughts, focusing on the task at hand. "Malfoy, are you going to answer my question?"

He looked up from his book, pausing in his reading for just a moment to watch her standing by the window. Her gaze had hardened with annoyance, almost as though his silence were irritating her beyond reason.

Shrugging, he looked down at his pages, barely reading the words as he considered how to answer her question. Why was it that the simplest of questions required the most complicated answers? She barely knew him; they'd been cohabitating for less than half a year, and already she was asking him all of these personal questions. Was she always like this, or was it just because it was him?

Besides, her questions were slowly starting to irritate him. She was distracting him from his book and kept gawking whenever he said that snow sucked. What was so special about snow, anyways? It was cold and wet, heavy and sticky, and it caused nothing but problems.

Besides, what the fuck did Christmas have to do with snow? Didn't this whole conversation begin with Christmas? How the hell did they start on the topic of snow?

Thumbing the page, he willed himself to stop complicating the situation; he was already confused enough by his homework and her questions that he didn't want to further irritate himself.

Sighing heavily, he looked over to her, noting her almost dominating stance, the stubborn glow to her eyes that reminded him that she would not give up until he gave her some kind of answer. He had, unfortunately, learnt the hard way just how stubborn she was.

She, obviously, had to suffer his wrath and consequences of her stubbornness. _That_ had pleased him to no ends, watching her shriek and scream, curse and swear as he showed her that he could be just as stubborn, if not even more so, as her.

But, he sighed again – there seemed to be a lot of sighing going on today –, they had just gotten over one stupid argument – if he was right, it had had something to do with sitting on the couch naked or something – and he wasn't in the mood to start another.

"Malfoy…"

"Don't start, Granger." His gaze hardened, letting her know that he wasn't in a very cooperative mood. He didn't feel like sparring with her, she would have to be patient or he would make her suffer for another week. "You want to know why I hate snow so much," he almost snarled, closing the book again. "It's snow, what's there to like about it? It's cold, it's wet, it's heavy, it's always getting into places it shouldn't go, and it's fucking cold. I don't see why anyone would like it so much."

Her brow slowly arched, teeth coming out to gnaw on her lower lip. His stomach slowly began to twist into a knot of trepidation.

Hermione Granger only chewed on her lip for three reasons.

Stress, such as that caused by school work.

Fear, like that experienced two years back during the Second Great War.

She was thinking up some creative and scary ideas.

Draco had an inkling of which of the three she was currently experiencing at the moment, and he felt all irritation fade away into fear. Unconsciously, he began to inch off of the couch and away from the terrifying Gryffindor. It didn't matter if he was not in the mood to argue; nothing mattered save for the need to escape.

There had been one particular situation where he had not escaped, resulting in his body being used as a mannequin. She had frozen him to the spot and used him as a model to show off clothes Parvati and Lavender had been dying to buy. Needless to say, he knew that, once they had started putting make-up on him, it was more a matter of revenge than anything else.

He, of course, could not remember just what he had done to deserve such severe punishment, but it had probably been something harsh.

For now, however, he could not allow himself to dwell on the past; a lip-chewing Hermione Granger stood before him and he needed to find some way out of her sight for the next several hours.

Just as he began to slowly stand, tightly gripping his book, ready to use it as a weapon if things got a little too nasty, Hermione slowly opened her mouth to speak.

"Just to clarify, one final time, you absolutely hate snow, correct?"

What the bloody hell was wrong with this woman? How many times did a man have to say something before it got through her thick skull?

"Bloody hell, Granger, I don't know how many times I've said it, yes, I hate the fucking snow! What the bloody hell does it have anything to do with you?"

"Well," she chewed a bit more on her lip, "I always assumed that everyone really liked snow. I find it hard to believe that someone hates snow, even someone like you."

"What the hell does that mean, 'someone like you'?" he spat before he even had a chance to think before speaking.

A blush darkened her cheeks, her eyes averting their gaze back to the window before she began to stammer out the next few words, "A…ah…w…well…I didn't really…mean to make it sound like _that_. It just…Well…I just thought _everyone_ liked it…Even…even people who seem to hate everything. You know? I just…"

"Granger, just shut your mouth before you dig yourself even deeper," Draco sighed, throwing himself back onto the couch. She wasn't chewing her lip anymore, meaning that he felt just a touch safer than he had beforehand.

Unfortunately, it didn't mean his self-esteem was doing well. '_People who seem to hate everything…'_ the words resonated in his head, making him wonder if that's what she meant when saying '_people like you.'_

There was a moment of tense silence between them, broken only by the sound of Draco opening his book and flipping back to his page. It was tense and uncomfortable, as though one had professed intimate, embarrassing thoughts and the result was severe discomfort for both parties.

Draco tried to focus on the text, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back his mind telling him to escape while he had the chance. He, however, successfully ignored it and told it to bugger off. She wasn't chewing her lip anymore; therefore, he had nothing to be frightened of. Besides, what could possibly happen?

"Does…Does that mean…that you don't like Christmas, either?"

Her trembling voice broke through the silence, only adding to the tension in the air. He glanced towards her, watching the way she twisted her hands, the way her eyes were avoiding his, and the way she began, once more, to chew on her full lower lip.

'_Bloody hell! Why didn't I leave when I had the chance?'_ Because he was too stubborn to listen to anyone or anything else, he admitted silently. This, however, was not the only thought in his mind; '_Why is Granger asking me all of these stupid questions? What's so special about snow? What the bloody hell is so damn special about Christmas?'_

When he voiced those words, he watched as the blush darkened on the woman's cheeks and how her knuckles whitened as her grip increased. He felt her apprehension radiating through the air, adding to his own that was slowly filling his body.

"It's just…that before you said, 'What's so great about Christmas,' and, well, I assumed that maybe you don't really like Christmas."

What was wrong with her? She sounded like some bumbling fool asking her crush out on a date. Hermione couldn't believe the stammered words were coming out of her own mouth. Normally she was so confident, she refused to sound fearful or anxious around Malfoy, but right now, as he glared at her from his seat on the couch, she felt extremely apprehensive.

Was it because Christmas had a tendency to be such a sensitive topic these days? Could it be because she was afraid of his answer? Afraid that he despised Christmas to the point that it might ruin hers? Or was it because of the way he looked at her as she spoke? The defiance in his eyes, the irritation and annoyance, glaring back at her as though she were nothing but a bug pestering him.

But…why would his eyes bother her that much?

She was going with question number two, assuming that, perhaps, he hated Christmas for his own reasons.

"Why do you say that?" she blurted out. "What do you mean, 'what's so special about Christmas'? Do you really hate it that much?"

His cold eyes glared at her, his long fingered slowly shutting the book as he shifted in his seat. She knew, instinctively, that she had hit a button and his predator-like stance told her such. Before she had a chance to back off, to apologize and run into hiding, his cool words hit her ears.

"Granger, there is absolutely nothing special about Christmas. It's just a time for fools to spend all of their bloody money on useless things and an excuse to eat like a hog. Christmas is the most asinine holiday ever to exist. I see no point to being happy that it's coming. It's a holiday for fools," he spat, ready and roaring for a fight.

He was sick of her picking at him, asking him these stupid but bloody personal questions. He was tired of Granger always sticking her nose where it didn't belong, and fed up of her looking at him that way. For the past several months he had dealt with her blurting out strange personal questions, demanding answers that he didn't want to give her. He had been patient, trying to act civil and give her vague answers, but he was sick and tired of her looking like he was some strange, alien creature when he openly admitted his hatred for Christmas.

She, however, was not able to pick up any of these thoughts and continued forward, unaware that a time bomb was slowly ticking away in front of her.

"Does that mean you've never bought any presents for your family? Never had any nice family dinners? Opened presents beside the Christmas tree, laughing and exited? Does that mean…"

"Bloody hell, Granger!" he shouted, unable to take her probing questions any longer. "You want the bloody truth? No, I've never given any presents to my parents! The only gifts they gave me were few but expensive, and no, I never opened my presents beside from bloody fir tree beside a stupid fireplace! Family dinners don't bloody exist in my house, especially on Christmas! We don't sit around a fire, laughing and talking, we never had family over, never went to someone else's home. Christmas doesn't exist for us, so fuck off!"

He leapt to his feet, marching furiously out of the Common Room before he grabbed the nearest object and threw it. As the door slammed shut, a shaken Hermione slowly sat back in her chair.

Looking down at her hands, she slowly thought over the words shouted at her. He had never spent time with his family, laughing and exchanging presents. He never got to sit down for a family dinner, talking amicably about their days or their hopes for the future.

He never got to have a real Christmas.

A deep, profound sadness welled up inside of her, pushing out a few lone tears that fell into her open palms. Swallowing thickly, she shut her eyes, trying to push his furious voice out of her mind.

He never got to have a real Christmas, she repeated silently.

"How…very sad."

**How do you guys like this? I'm only posting the Prologue for now, and I plan on posting the rest as a whole once it gets closer to Christmas. Depending on the number of Chapters I have (and which chapter Christmas Day takes place on), I will calculate on which day to start posting the rest of it. **

**One chapter per day, regardless of my review/chapter rule. In this particular story, it doesn't matter how many reviews I get (although they are very nice), I just want to write this because it keeps plaguing my mind. **

**Note on time change: I am advancing the dates by about a decade. In this fic, it is 2008 and Hermione is twenty. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Hermione is nearly a full year older than Harry. She was born in September, past the cut off date for Hogwarts for students born in the same year as her. This means that she was about 18 in Deathly Hallows, and this takes place two years afterwards, meaning that she's 20 and everyone else is 19. **

**The reason for time change is A) to facilitate things for me. I have a tendency to mention current events, such as Obama's election to power or iPods. B) modernize things and make things a little more comprehensible. I don't feel like having to remember everything from the 1990's, I'm too lazy.**

**So yeah, because I'm lazy, it's easier to change the dates rather than omit or add time-related things.**

**Anyways…Constructive criticism is welcome, flames with be use to roast chestnuts, and words of love and devotion with be greatly appreciated.**

**If you are in search for any information concerning by other works, please see my profile or feel free to message me. **

**Thank you. **


	2. Hermione Granger's To Do List

**Chapter 1**

**Hermione Granger's To-Do List**

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me."

"Oh, it was no problem. I had some free time, anyways."

The soft, musical voice filtered through the air, singsongy and gentle, as though every spoken word was a lyric to a slow melody. Pale blue eyes met amber as two, very opposite, women sat before one another at the back of the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione fiddled nervously with a notebook before her, bending the pages, playing with the cover as she fought back all nervousness and dared to move forward.

Luna smiled encouragingly from her seat, taking a small sip from her Butterbeer before going back to what she was doing before, sitting and smiling with a glazed look in her eyes.

"What would you do," Hermione fingered the quill stationed beside the notebook, "if you were, say, to meet someone who, well…never had a Christmas?"

Luna arched a pale brow, curiosity causing her blue eyes to obtain an eerie glow. "Are you talking about Draco Malfoy?"

Her perception was perfect; Luna had always had this strange ability to pick up on the slightest of things and understand the unspoken words. Hermione had to admit that Luna Lovegood would make one exceptional psychiatrist, if only it weren't for the fact that she sounded insane half of the time.

The blush darkening Hermione's cheeks was answer enough and Luna's lips formed a gentle smile. Everything about the girl was gentle; she reminded Hermione of a thin tree, willowy and flexible, constantly swaying gently in the breeze, every touch gentle, every word soft, and every action tender. But, Hermione reminded herself as she recalled the Second Great War, like the small tree, Luna was sturdy and supportive.

Gnawing on her lower lip, chastising herself by reminding herself that, one day, she would cut her lip, Hermione silently recalled why she had gone to Luna for this particular subject rather than her best friend, Ginevra Weasley.

The fact was, if Hermione were to go to Ginny about any topic related to Draco Malfoy, kind or not, Ginny would respond with the most typical of Weasley reaction, unadulterated hatred directed towards the blond ferret. While Draco had proved to be most useful during the war, coming to their aid when the world seemed ready to be swallowed by darkness, many people still had reservations about the Malfoy.

Then again, not many people had seen what Hermione had seen, and not as many were plagued by the nightmarish memories that tormented the brunette as the slept. But those were for another time and another place, for this time and place was reserved for one topic in particular.

Mr. Malfoy's lack of Christmas joy.

Luna was perfect for this; while she was Ginny's close friend, she held no grudges and had this innocent, naïve aloofness about her that told Hermione she would not be biased or crude in her advice.

"So, Draco Malfoy has never had a real Christmas?" A strange, not-so-innocent, wicked gleam made Luna's eyes glow eerily once more. "Well, on Christmas morning, why don't you just lie under the tree and ask him to unwrap you?"

Hermione was grateful that she had not been drinking at the time, for even now she spluttered and choked loudly, coughing violently as she mentally crossed off naïve and innocent in her description of Luna.

"W…WHAT?" the brunette managed to cry once she stopped choking and regained whatever breath was left in her body.

Luna's smiled broadened just a touch and a small chuckle escaped her rosy, unpainted lips. "That would help him have a real Christmas, right? I suppose if you're not willing to do it, then we could find somebody who is willing," she drifted off, her eyes glazing as she tapped her chin with a long finger.

"Luna," Hermione wheezed, tears flowing from her eyes as she fought for air and sanity, "please…that's not what I meant!"

Nope, definitely not innocent; Luna had to be raunchier than Lavender and Lavender was pretty raunchy.

Maybe that was why Luna always had that faraway look; she wasn't thinking of those strangely named creatures Hermione could not recall in this moment of insanity, she was probably thinking up scenarios of raunchy sex.

Grabbing the once untouched Butterbeer beside her, Hermione took a violent, big swig of it to try and dampen or completely remove the foul images that suddenly filled her mind.

_'Damn it, Granger, why did you have to go and think of that? She probably has a thing for pirates, she seems like the type who…GRANGER! You are disgusting. Remember the reason for being here: Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, which is almost as foul as what you were thinking before…but …still…'_

Clearing her thoughts and throat as she fought for mental silence and calm, Hermione took another, smaller, swig of the Butterbeer before facing Luna once more.

"Luna, I don't plan on…offering…myself or anyone else to Draco for Christmas. What I need to know is what to do that will make him enjoy the holiday without having to engage in any…sexual…activities."

"So," Luna said softly, "you want to teach him how to fall in love with Christmas without having sex, correct?" Hermione nodded. "Well, that's easy enough, isn't it?" At her confused expression, Luna continued, "You just do all the traditional Christmas stuff with Draco Malfoy. It's very simple."

While Hermione had not been overly oblivious as a child, she had still had troubles recalling every little tradition her family had done. In fact, they had been a rather untraditional family, aside from the baking and decorating. The only real Christmases Hermione was able to vividly recall had been those that happened since arriving at Hogwarts and those had not been too overly traditional to say that least, with Basilisks, Tournaments, and Dark Lords dampening the Christmas spirit.

Even after the war, when she had finally been able to spend a real Christmas with her family that she might be able to remember, the Christmas had not been too traditional. She'd been off scouring the land for remaining Death Eaters while her family had been working at a Muggle and Wizard's soup kitchen. Needless to say, she could barely recall any fully traditional Christmases, which, in the end, made her feel a strange longing and sadness that she never knew existed within her.

"Luna…to be honest, Christmases haven't been very…traditional around my home. At least, I can't recall all the traditions involved," she admitted quietly, "I don't remember a lot of the stuff I did before coming to Hogwarts."

This lack of memory, Hermione attributed to the possible mental trauma caused by the Second Great War. During that time, it had been so difficult to find any happy thoughts, any happy memories, that it felt like all of them had been permanently washed from her mind.

Perhaps Bellatrix's torture had actually done more harm than good…

"Well, first off, you need to decorate." Luna spoke as though she were completely unaware to sudden inner turmoil that filled Hermione, but her faraway eyes held a knowing look that reminded Hermione of Luna's perceptiveness. "I'm certain that if you were to speak with Headmistress McGonagall, she would allow you and Draco Malfoy to decorate the Common Room. Of course, this means going out and buying the decorations.

"When you go out and buy the decorations, also find baking stuff. You do have a kitchen in the Common Room, right? Good," Luna smiled, "so you buy baking stuff and bake a bunch of Christmas sweets; cookies, cakes, pies, tarts, anything you can think of that you think you can make the Muggle way." Her lips twitched. "Muggle Christmas, I think, is far more fun and traditional than Wizard Christmas. Very family oriented and gets people a lot closer."

Hermione had managed to open her notebook and began scribbling notes furiously, following Luna as she listed off the various things that consisted of a traditional Christmas.

"Of course, I think that you have to also go out and have fun." The knowing look filled her eyes, as though she knew that Draco despised snow. "You two should play in the snow, have snowball fights, build snowmen, do all the fun things in the snow the Muggle away. Very intimate," she winked, "and it will help you two get closer. Like good friends," she added at Hermione's glare.

"You two also need to go out for a tree." This part Hermione knew and understood very well, but she still took down notes, enjoying Luna's advice. "You can buy decorations for that, too, and decorate it in the Common Room. I think he'll enjoy it, but he might try to take charge. He looks like a man who likes to be in charge, if you know what I mean."

No, Hermione didn't exactly know what Luna meant, but she also didn't really want to know what Luna meant; it probably had something to do with sex.

"Anyways," Luna sipped her Butterbeer, "you also need to do the little things, like listen to Christmas music and have hot chocolate. Then, for Christmas, I think you should go all out, save for being wrapped in ribbon and nothing else under the tree." Hermione blushed darkly. "Do a whole dinner the Muggle way; Headmistress McGonagall will probably let you do that. Unwrap presents, have a nice breakfast, sit and relax. Tell each other Christmas stories or watch Christmas movies. It's very funny how older Muggle things don't work, but laptops and Muggle movies work fine in Hogwarts. Just not the Internet," Luna sighed sadly.

Hermione, under other circumstances, would have normally been aghast at Luna's knowledge of Muggles, but she reminded herself that Luna had taken Muggle Studies and that she had to focus on what Luna was telling her. It was important to make this Christmas for Malfoy as special as possible, even if he irked her most of the time.

About 99% of the time, to be exact.

"McGonagall removed a lot of those spells from Hogwarts," Hermione noted quietly, "after the Second Great War. There is no Internet access, but she finds that students are a lot safer playing with PSPs and laptops instead of Fanged Frisbees. She also added another spell, making it so that none of the batteries died out, since Hogwarts does not have any plugs, even though some things run on electricity."

Luna nodded slowly, taking in all of Hermione's information as she drank her beverage.

"So, I think that that's all you need to know. I assume you could find recipe book in the library for cooking and order the storybooks from the post. It's just too bad that you don't want to offer yourself as a Christmas gift for Draco Malfoy." The most mischievous of smiles found its way onto Luna's face. "It would make one delightful story."

"Luna," Hermione sighed heavily, "I told you that I don't plan on giving myself to Malfoy. I'm, uh…saving myself…"

Folding her fingers under her chin, Luna grinned broadly. "For Mr. Right, I assume?" She reached out, taking the last few sips of her drink. "Did I tell you everything you needed?"

Hermione nodded, closing the notebook and, daringly, she finished off her Butterbeer in two gigantic mouthfuls. Fighting back the fizzing feeling in her nose, she refused to let her eyes water as she smiled back at Luna. "It's perfect, Luna, thank you." She stood up, watching as Luna did the same. "I suppose I better get back to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Harry and Ron are probably getting worried."

Luna stood, still smiling knowingly at Hermione. "Hermione…about saving yourself for Mr. Right…"

Looking up from her bag, in which she'd been stashing her book and quill, Hermione gave Luna a puzzled look. "Yes?"

"Don't waste a good opportunity just because you think you haven't met him yet," she turned around and began to head out of the crowded bar, "because, you may have already met him, you just don't know that yet."

Puzzled over Luna's words, Hermione watched her retreating figure as the blonde swayed out of the Three Broomsticks and into the snowy world outside.

Scoffing, Hermione tightened her jacket and scarf, pushing through the crowd as she headed for the door.

If she knew anything, it was that Hermione had certainly not met Mr. Right yet.

* * *

The smiling face blew up in a flash of red, exploding on the trees and white ground as another, maniacally grinning face looked onward.

Draco Malfoy had spent the past day and a half exploding the most asinine objects just to find pleasure and get rid of his consuming anger. For the past day and a half, he had been furious with a certain brown-haired, amber-eyed woman who dared poke her small nose into his affairs.

God damn it, when did his life have to be her business? He never asked her to stick her nose in his life, to ask those stupid questions!

Another snowman's head blew up, resulting in several outraged cries from a mix of first years.

Damn first years, no matter how they were, whether it be 13 or 11, they always began to whine and cry whenever their precious snowman blew up.

"It was going to melt anyways, you bloody dolts," he snapped, cursing idiots before marching off in the snow, ready to blow up another snowman.

He had already dealt with a number of chairs in an empty classroom, to the dismay of the Professor Flitwick, who had used that class only an hour after the destruction had occurred. Then, Draco had headed to the Room of Requirement, blowing up dummy after dummy until it not longer pleased him.

He had become rather harsh in his punishments, snarling out detentions or the removal of points to the slightest infractions, no matter the house or the year of the student. When that lost all of its pleasure, he decided to wreak havoc on the 'beautiful' grounds of Hogwarts by destroying everything happy.

This, so far, was placating him the most, since seeing first years cry was rather fun. He knew that later on, once his frustration was quenched, he would feel several pangs of guilt, but, for now, he would enjoy his reign of destruction.

Hermione Granger had pissed him off and the world would have to suffer.

Who gave a bloody fuck about snow? A carrot nose went flying.

Who cared about building forts or snowmen? A coal mouth disintegrated.

Who gave a fuck about presents? Coal eyes blew in two different directions.

What the fuck was so bloody special about fucking Christmas? An entire snowman blew apart, spraying all those nearby.

Christmas was for fools! Who the hell wasted their time buying presents, doing all of that decorating, all of that baking and cooking, all for one stupid day? It was one stupid day, just like any other, and the only reason it was special was because some important figure was 'born' on it and the world decided to commercialize the fuck out of it.

Christmas was nothing; it was not some special day, just some sorry, lame-ass excuse to be forced to spend the day with your most annoying family members.

A part of him wished that Christmas would just cease to exist.

Draco Malfoy hated and despised Christmas with every part of his body.

Perhaps it was due to past experiences, the lack of joy, the constant coldness of his home and father, or perhaps it had just been ingrained in his mind that Christmas nothing special. No one, not even Draco, was certain why the blond hated the holiday so much, but there was a reason for everything.

Maybe it had been from those cold, lifeless family dinners his mother had insisted on them having. The family seated at the ostentatiously large table, father at one end, mother at the other, with Draco somewhere in between. His mother would always try to establish some form of conversation, but his condescending father would have none of it. Dinner was a time to eat, not a time to converse, only the uncouth and uncivilized conversed while eating.

The meals, too, were ostentatious. Nothing but the best for the Malfoys, his father would always say with a grin. The best, however, always had to be untraditional, fancy food, fancy silverware, and absolutely no sweets for dessert.

He recalled that, one time, when he'd been about six, Draco had asked why they never had Christmas pudding or cookies. He had been over at Blaise's house the day before, watching with fascination as the boy's incessantly widowed mother baked treats.

When asking his father if they could have sweets, the man replied, '_Sweets? Sweets are below us. Malfoys only have the best and sweets are not the best! You are not allowed to have any sweets, and there are to be no sweets in this house, do you understand?'_

Then, shortly afterwards, when Draco had attempted to bring home some cookies from Blaise's house, his father had caught him before he got to surprise his mother.

He still had a few scars on his back from that beating.

Draco's father, while having been very cold, condescending, and verbally abusive, had rarely laid a hand on Draco, and even then had always been careful about scarring. The fact that now, thirteen years later, Draco had scars on his back told him just how furious his father had been.

"Oi! Malfoy! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

A cruel, vicious smile formed on Draco's voice at the sound of the Weasel's voice. With his rage raw and surfaced, Draco would relish in torturing the pathetic redhead.

Slowly turning around, he faced the redhead and three others. It was the Golden Trio and Weaslette, ready for battle. His eyes momentarily flickered towards Hermione, noting the apprehension on her face and the way she gnawed on her lower lip, before moving back to glare at Weasel and Potty.

While they had fought together in the war, Draco having been ousted as a spy for Dumbledore's Army during the Second Great Battle, Harry and Ron still expressed a deep hatred for the man who had tortured them for almost their whole Hogwarts career. They found forgiveness a bit harder when the one to forgive was the son of a Death Eater and the man who nearly killed Dumbledore in their sixth year.

Of course, just the fact that he was Draco Malfoy said it all; even now, after the war, the Trio regarded him as an enemy just as he regarded them as enemies. It didn't matter what was said or done, did not matter how many people had changed their views; Draco Malfoy and the Golden Trio were to always have a gaping chasm of animosity spread out between them.

Draco's face twisted into an ugly frown, eyes flashing dangerously at the sight of the foursome standing before him. He barely registered the way Hermione kept quiet and to the back, his attention was focused on the speaker and Weasel's lover, Potty.

"What do you snits want?" Draco spat, crossing his arms to refrain himself for attacking the gits. He was getting sick and tired of people butting into his business.

"What gives you the right to just destroy everything like that?" Harry cried, green eyes glinting furiously. "Bloody hell, Malfoy, you're acting like some first year bully."

"You trying to act all great and mighty, Malfoy?" Ron shouted, ready to brawl with the blond. "You think it's jolly good fun to wreck everyone else's day?"

"What is this, the playground police?" Draco scoffed, fists clenching in frustration. "What gives you any right to act all superior? I'm free to do as I fucking please and you can't do shit to stop me." He grinned. "I'm a Head and you, Weasel, are nothing but a pathetic Prefect."

"Hermione's Head Girl, she can do something!" Ginny yanked on Hermione's arm, forcing the girl out from the back and into the front, something that obviously made the brunette very uncomfortable. "Hermione, do something! Dock off a hundred points from Slytherin, give him detentions for the rest of year, anything so that I'm not forced to hex the hell out of him!"

Hermione squirmed uncomfortably, twisting her hands in her coat as she looked apprehensively from Draco to her friends and back to Draco. She knew, deep down, that her probing was the cause for his frustration, the cause for his sudden need for destruction.

"Well…technically…" she muttered as she began, but was quickly broken off by Ron.

"Malfoy, you're the one always acting so high and bloody mighty," he shouted, drawing the attention of several nearby students. "You walk about, talking down to everyone, acting like you're the bloody fucking king of the world. Newsflash, Ferret Boy, you couldn't even be the king of shit if you tried."

"You have absolutely no right to go around destroying things," Harry repeated. "I suggest you just bugger off and go back to your room before you do something you regret."

"Harry…"

Draco's harsh laugh cut off Hermione, a foul, crude laugh that made the hackles rise on everyone nearby, making Hermione cringe with fear. She'd heard that laugh only twice, and both times Draco had been inconsolably infuriated.

"I have no bloody right? What makes you so bloody righteous? That damn scar on your head? Really, to be honest, you weren't alone when you saved the whole fucking planet. You _needed_ help, you pathetic wanker."

"What the hell is the matter with you, Malfoy?" Ginny shrieked, rising to the defense of her loving boyfriend. "He didn't do anything wrong to you. Ever since you met him, you've been nothing but a prat to him. Are you jealous?"

A flick of the wrist and a nearby snow fort actually caught fire. "You want to know what the hell is wrong with me, blood traitor? Ask you're big-nosed Muggle-born friend over there. The bitch just can't keep her bloody mouth shut and stay out of everybody else's business," he spat, moving away. "Just like her pathetic friends."

Marching off, leaving a wave of destruction in his path, three of the foursome gaped openly, wondering just what had caused Draco Malfoy to go so far off of his rocker.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ginny?" The only one who was not gaping, Hermione had tried to shy away, knowing that this was all of her fault and that she would be forced to relate everything that had occurred two days ago to her friends.

While they were her friends, she couldn't help but feel extremely apprehensive at the thought of discussing this particular matter. The way Draco reacted made her feel that it was one extremely sensitive and personal topic, and the idea of talking about it made her tremble in terror. She did not want to talk about it to her friends, especially since they would be less than understanding, but, as they slowly turned to face and crowd her, she feared that she may have no choice.

Maybe if she made them promise not to tell…

"Hermione, what did he mean by you sticking your 'big nose' into his business?" Ron asked as both of his brows rose in annoyance and curiosity. "What happened?"

Sighing softly, she fiddled with a button on her jacket, debating as to whether or not she should tell her friends. In the past, she knew that she could confide in them whatever information she wanted, but now, all of a sudden, on the topic of Draco Malfoy, she felt strangely uneasy.

She, however, knew that if she did not tell them anything, they would speculate and assume, reaching asinine and exaggerated conclusions that would cause more harm than good.

"I suppose…it might do little harm," she muttered, gesturing for the threesome to follow her as she trudged her way back to the school.

"Her…"

"Hush Harry, she's going to tell us," Ginny chastised.

"You see," Hermione glanced to make sure everyone was following. Sure enough, Harry walked beside Ginny, a perplexed expression causing his face to look years younger while Ron looked older and unattractive with his puckered bow and pursed lips of irritation. She feared that what she was about to say may have a near-fatal impact on her relationship with the redhead.

"A couple of days ago, Draco and I were in the Heads' Common Room…"

She quietly related their discussion, keeping a few key details out of it, mostly the little tidbits that involved her noticing Draco's particularly well-built body.

Shame caused a bright blush to rise on her cheeks as she admitted in her probing, personal questions. She admitted that she had pushed him for answers, demanding that he give some because she'd been too naïve to think that someone could possibly dislike Christmas. They walked through the entranceway, her voice hushed, ushering her friends closer as students rushed about. She didn't want anyone other than Harry, Ron, and Ginny to hear her words.

"So," she sighed softly as they made their way to the Gryffindor dormitory, "I believe that I'm at fault here. I shouldn't have pressed him like that, especially since I should know by now that he doesn't like it."

"He doesn't seem to like a lot of things," Ginny observed quietly.

"It's just…it's so sad that he never got a real Christmas." She spun around, facing the trio as they stood just around the corner from the Fat Lady. "He's our age, been a lot luckier in life than we have been, but he's the one who hasn't been able to have a Christmas. I just find it so hard to believe that someone our age hasn't been able to have such a nice experience."

"What are you getting at, Hermione?" Harry asked slowly, fearful of her response.

"I just find it sad, that's all." She rushed her words, the blush on her cheeks darkening as the untruth escaped from her lips. "I just…wish that I could do something. But, well, it _is_ Malfoy, and I think that if I even tried, he wouldn't accept my generosity."

"Hermione," Ron tsked, throwing an arm over her shoulders, "there's something you need to know that's very important."

Annoyed and confused, she wasn't sure whether she should ask him what or toss him arm from her shoulders and glare with indignation. Before she even had a chance to decide what to do, he continued; "There are some people out there who don't deserve Christmases. Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, no matter what people say or do, he was and will always be a Death Eater. Death Eater's, Hermione, are bad people with no hearts or souls, correct? Death Eaters don't deserve to have real, happy Christmases; they don't even want real Christmases. So, Malfoy probably doesn't even _want_ a real Christmas, get it?"

"But Ron," she exclaimed, moving out from under his arm to glare at him, "we all know that Malfoy isn't all that bad. He doesn't even have a mark! No tattoo, no sign at all that he was a Death Eater. We have absolutely no proof to base such accusations on! And I should know; I've been living with him for the past four months!"

"He must be hiding them," Harry quipped, ready to start the age-old argument of whether Draco Malfoy was truly evil or just misguided. "You're an amazing witch, Hermione, but even you can't see through every spell there is."

"Besides," Ginny added, "his father was a Death Eater, so, as they say, like father, like son. I'm sure, 'Mione, that he doesn't lose any sleep over the fact that he never had a traditional Christmas." Ginny knew how to diffuse an argument before it began, a skill established throughout her adolescence when dealing with her older brothers. "I don't think it bothers him one bit. Now," she hugged Hermione's arm to her side, pulling the brunette towards the Fat Lady, "don't you have some homework to help us with?"

Pausing, Hermione slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I think I should just head back to my dormitory and get started on my Ancient Runes assignment," she said softly, keeping her gaze away from the probing one of Ginny.

Just as she managed to slip her arm from Ginny's tight grip, Ron rounded on her. "Of course, you're going to ditch us to go back to that slimy git. I understand, Hermione," he spat. "Go off and pity the poor rich boy who never had a bloody Christmas because he's a fucking Death Eater. Just leave us to struggle in life."

Sighing heavily, she forced herself to ignore Ron's insults, swallowing her pride before looking him in the eyes. "I have homework to do," she reiterated slowly, determined to draw out time as much as she could before she couldn't hold back any longer.

Time, as usual, wasn't on her side. Exhaling a second time, she pushed back the uncomfortable sensation of probing eyes on her and sucked in a breath.

"I've decided to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas."

* * *

"Oh bloody hell!"

The quill was thrown savagely across the room, landing by the fireplace as a notebook was slammed shut. It was nearing one o'clock in the morning and Hermione was seated on the sofa, infuriated and frustrated beyond belief.

Fighting back the urge to give up and go to bed, she was just about to reopen the notebook when a sudden flicker caught her sight. In the corner of her eye, she watched in fear as her quill caught fire on the glowing embers.

"No!" she cried, lunging forward to attempt and save the feathery writing instrument from inevitable death. Tripping over the coffee table, landing on the carpeted floor with a thud, she cursed herself for being too slow and too short-tempered.

The quill caught fire and in moments, it was disintegrated, the ink having acted as an accelerant.

She would have to remind herself to ask George to create non-flammable quills.

"Well, well, Granger, we finds ourselves in a very strange predicament, don't we?"

So Draco had finally decided to come back to the Heads' Dormitory; when Hermione had returned just after supper, she had found the Common Room and bedrooms avoid of all presence and had been the only occupant since then. Draco must have done something to blow off the rest of his steam; she sensed no anger in his voice.

Grateful that she had decided to change into her flannel pajama pants and baggy shirt, Hermione slowly righted herself, adjusting her clothes. Her hands came to a halt on her lower back, finding that her pants were hanging a touch lower than they normally would.

"Nice knickers, Granger," he laughed tauntingly, "bright orange is definitely you. I have to ask," he leaned on the back of the sofa, grinning broadly as she turned around, her face covered in a brilliant blush, "does the orange remind you of Weaselbee? Is that why you wear such ghastly knickers?"

"What does it matter to you, Malfoy?" she spat, grabbing her notebook from his prying fingers before he had a chance to open it and find the damning evidence. "And where have you been?"

"What are you, my mum? What I do and where I go is my own business."

"However," Hermione added, "it is my business to know why you were out of bed after hours while not on duty."

Crossing his arms, too tired to argue, he let out a loud sigh. He'd exhausted himself throughout the day, having returned to the Room of Requirement after the skirmish on the school grounds. There, he had set it up so he could physically fight; wrestling, boxing, and combating anything the room threw at him. At the end of it, he was finally sated, lying in a pool of sweat, panting heavily as the anger completely dissipated.

His anger had been childish, he had realized, and he had had no reason to go off his rocker like he had. He had then spent the next hour admonishing himself, the first few inklings of regret filling his mind as he recalled the destroyed snowmen and forts.

Draco Malfoy genuinely felt bad and embarrassed by his actions this afternoon.

"If you _must_ know, like you always do," he sighed, "I was off doing said duties. It took extra time because a certain redheaded Prefect git decided not to show up."

Ron.

She should have realized that Ron would've skipped his duties with Malfoy. The notion of the two of them scouring the halls, dealing out punishments was as unlikely as Harry making out with Draco.

Embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she realized that she had forgotten he had had duties. "Oh, well…I suppose I'll talk to Ron tomorrow about it…"

Then she remembered clearly that, after her discussion with him this afternoon, she was not on speaking terms with him. Her cheeks reddened and she darted her gaze away from Malfoy's scrutinizing eyes.

Ron had been quite ticked when she had stated she would be staying over the holidays. She and her family were supposed to have been joining the Weasley's at the Burrow for a special Christmas celebration; it was Bill and Fleur's daughter's first Christmas.

Hermione, however, knew that little Victoire would have many more pleasant Christmases in the future, and she felt that this may be her only chance to give Draco Malfoy something no one else had ever given him.

Unconditional kindness and compassion, a kind of love at the one time of year when people tend to feel their loneliest.

No one deserved to be alone at Christmas, and no one deserved to have never experienced a real Christmas, she had argued. Ron had shouted back, calling her an idiot, telling her that she was a traitor for refusing to come with them and staying with Malfoy.

Ginny and Harry, all the while, seemed rather torn between the two. After a while, however, Ginny had joined Ron's side and argued vehemently after Ron pointed out the torment Draco had put them through.

Harry, the only one out of them who seemed to have established some faint truce between him and Draco, only hesitantly agreed at the end that Hermione would be better off at the Burrow.

She kindly told them all to sod off and stop telling her how to live her life. She would do as she pleased and they had no proof whatsoever she was actually staying for Draco; they just assumed.

So she had left, fuming, while Ron shouted after her. He threatened to break their friendship and developing relationship if she really stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays.

Thinking over what Luna had said earlier about Mr. Right, Hermione knew, then and there, that Ron probably was not Mr. Right – something she had acknowledged shortly after their kiss during the battle two years back – but she couldn't help but feel saddened by the thought of losing their relationship.

Ron was the closest thing she had ever come to in terms of a doting boyfriend, but, at this point in time, she couldn't stand the thought of being with someone who would force his will upon her.

She needed her freedom, too, which was why she gleefully flipped Ron off after he shouted his words. It would certainly cause a rift in their relationship, but at this moment in time, she felt herself caring less and less.

Even if she still had some feelings for the boy.

"Of course," Draco drawled, yanking her from her thoughts, "speaking to the Weasel will fix everything. Don't waste your precious time, besides, it's not like it would do any good." He scowled suddenly, pausing on his way to the stairs leading to the bedrooms. "You'd probably side with him anyways."

Hermione got to her feet, looking just in time to see the frown and the way the grey eyes hardened, almost as though he were pushing back powerfully overwhelming emotions.

"Mal…"

"Don't waste your breath. I don't need your help, Granger. If Weasel skips again, I'll fix it myself."

With that said and done, he made his way to his bedroom, leaving a suddenly distraught brunette in the Common Room.

Falling back to land on the sofa, she sighed heavily, watching as the burning quill quickly reignited the dying flames.

She was confused; Draco confused her to no ends, and she couldn't stand being confused. She was used to knowing the facts, being able to spew them out without a moment's hesitation, and the fact that she was having troubles understanding her own thoughts and the feelings of another added to the uncomfortable perplexity.

Yes, she had been slowly developing an acquaintanceship between her and Draco in the past few months, slowly going from enemies to being on relatively decent terms. They were able to discuss certain subjects – mainly schoolwork – without it turning into a full out brawl, and they were able to, normally, sit in the same room together without arguments arising, unless one or the other was rather pissed or irked.

What happened during the battle also helped cement their developing relationship, especially since she was one of the only two people alive to tell the tale. It was a painful memory, to say the least, but it helped their growing friendship more than anything.

This, however, was a situation she never thought she'd be in with Draco. While they had developed a relationship, they rarely spoke about personal thoughts or experiences. Most things said were impersonal, without any emotional attachment. So, seeing Draco like this, sound so emotionless and look so cold, refusing her help the way he had, confused the hell out of her.

No, it was not because of the way he reacted; it was a typical Malfoy reaction to not accept help from Muggle-Borns. The reason she was shaken and confused was because of the way _she_ reacted.

Perhaps it was because of the recent revelation on Draco, finding out that he had spent some of the most important times alone as a child, that made her more sensitive. Perhaps it had just been the past two days, filled with raging emotions, a rollercoaster of powerful emotions that sent her high one second and then plunging down the next.

She wasn't sure what it was, but she was positive of one thing; Hermione Granger felt a deep sadness and pity for Draco Malfoy.

It wasn't fair that he was treated with disrespect, her mind raged suddenly. He may have deserved it three years ago, but not now, not after everything he sacrificed to help make the world a better place. It didn't matter how many people heard the story; they still stuck with their prejudices and predisposed beliefs, unable to think that Draco Malfoy could have a heart.

He did have a heart, she realized as she clutched the notebook to her chest. Draco Malfoy had a heart, just like everyone else, but no one was ever there to help it grow and love.

She threw herself on her knees before the coffee table, savagely tearing open the book as she reached for a spare quill tucked under the couch cushion.

Draco Malfoy deserved better than he got; she only truly understood this with Ron's refusal to join him on their rounds. Draco didn't complain, he didn't whine and demand that there be justice; he refused her help and said that he could take of it if it happened again, which she was positive would.

This only made her wonder if it had happened before and she had been too oblivious to notice it.

No, just in the past two days, she realized that there was more to Draco Malfoy than the hard, cold, and condescending outer shell.

She planned on breaking that shell and reaching to his heart, promising more to herself than him that she would give him the best Christmas ever.

No matter what.

**All right, first off: THANK YOU FOR THE POSITIVE RESPONSE!**

**Let me point something out: my best chaptered work to date (oneshots don't count) was ****Leather and Lace** **(it yielded 241 reviews so far), and I got 17 reviews on the first chapter.**

**This beauty has gotten me 23+ amazing reviews. **

**THANK YOU!**

**Now, because I feel bad that everyone kept begging for a next chapter, I'm posting this one early. The remainder of the story, however, you will have to wait for. Sorry, but I really want to do this all as close to Christmas as possible. **

**I suppose you'll just have to wait.**

**Note: I am putting all of my other stories on hiatus until this one is complete. I'm sorry to anyone waiting on them, I know I've been a horrible updater on them of late, but I just have to finish this beauty before going to the others. I'm sure you'll understand.**

**Constructive criticism is very much welcome, flames will only keep me warm and toasty on cold winter nights, and devotion will only boost my ego to bursting point. **

**Thank you all. **


	3. Unreasonable Reasons

**Warning: Some Ron bashing ahead. You love Ron? Feel free to add constructive criticism. Any childish flame = cozy fireplace before which there will be a fur rug and the writhing, sexing forms of Hermione and Draco. Yum.**

**Chapter 3 will be up tomorrow. I'm not finished the story, but I will be distracted with school work (essay and exam to study for) for the next few days, so I may not be able to write much.  
**

**Chapter 2**

**Unreasonable Reasons**

Ronald Weasley was livid. He could not believe what he had heard this morning, let alone the words she spewed out yesterday afternoon.

He resisted the urge to grab the nearest desk and flip it over, clenching his fists to the point that his knuckles were as white as the parchment before him and he began to lose all feeling in his hands. He could care less; all he wanted to do was throttle that curly-haired brunette who refused to spend the holidays with _him_.

What a bloody bitch.

Yesterday he had thought that she'd been joking, testing out to see how he would react if she planned on staying for the holidays, wondering if he acted like he would miss her.

Staring at the parchment in front of him, ignoring Professor McGonagall's droning voice as she explained what their pre-Christmas exam would be on, his mind flitted from thought to thought. He needed to find out exactly why Hermione was staying at Hogwarts.

It was nonsensical; she would not be staying because she felt bad for Malfoy – Malfoy, of all the bloody people! He was a Death Eater, he tried to get them expelled on several occasions and, as Ron had reminded her last night, nearly killed him and Lavender back in sixth year.

There was no way she would be staying for a prat like Malfoy. No possible way.

There had to be something else…something more, something hidden behind her mixed signals and sudden, erratic thoughts.

While Ron was quite adept at strategizing battle plans – evident in his skills at chess – he could not, for the life of him, figure out complex puzzles like Transfiguration, Potions, and the opposite sex.

He was rather useless when it came to figuring said things out.

Maybe…maybe he was taking this the wrong way. Maybe, he thought gleefully, she was lying, pretending that she was going to stay at Hogwarts and would surprise him on the train.

That would be brilliant!

Maybe on the train, she would talk to him alone and then tell him how she felt! There was no mistaking her signals; he knew that Hermione Granger was madly in love with him and he was only waiting for her to fully accept it.

Why wouldn't she be in love with him?

Hanging his head, he accepted the reality of the thought; he was Ronald Weasley, second to last child of the Weasley clan, completely useless in all aspects of life and nowhere near as good as Harry Potter or – should he dare? – Draco Malfoy.

Hermione, all the while, was amazing. Yes, so what if she never claimed any responsibility or glory for the defeat of Lord Voldemort. So what if he and Harry got all of the praise and glory while she stood back in the shadows? She liked it there, didn't she? Besides, he knew that she was awesome, and so did Harry, that was all she needed to know, right?

She was too kind, he sighed inwardly, the way she allowed him to take the limelight with Harry, doing something he had never been able to do in his entire life. No, she was far too kind.

That filthy bitch better not be staying because of Malfoy!

His thoughts were erratic, darting viciously from kindness to malevolence as his mind moved about rapidly, thinking of her beauty and then thinking of their argument yesterday afternoon. One emotion was masking the other, but which one was it?

Could it be that his anger was simply a reflection of his possessiveness? Was he jealous that Malfoy already got to live with her and now spend the holidays with her? Could it be that he always thought kindly of her and, through his kindness, was becoming slowly frustrated and impatient?

Ever since their kiss two years ago, he had heard no word of it from her. He had tried mentioning it, but every time the topic was brought up, she found some way to avoid him for the remainder of the day.

Maybe…maybe she just needed time.

He wasn't so sure. Perhaps he was truly angry, furious at the idea that maybe she really didn't love him after all. Maybe the bitch was just playing him along, pretending that she was attracted to him in order to hide something else.

If she was dating Malfoy, there would be hell to pay!

His fists clenched again, fury overwhelming him, jealousy coursing violently through his veins as he realized that, at this moment, he did not feel kind but infuriated. He had tried to reason with himself, tried to think that maybe, just maybe, she was just pitying Malfoy or was planning something special for him. However; every thought, every idea, were figments of his imagination.

She was going to stay at Hogwarts and it pissed him off.

She had promised that she would spend the holidays with him and his family! She pulled him along, tugging his strings like a puppeteer, before severing the ties, making it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him.

Bitch, that stupid bitch. Couldn't she see what was in front of her? Couldn't she see that he was perfect for her?

He viciously kicked the leg of his table, causing a loud disruption in the classroom.

"Mr. Weasley, what was the meaning of that?"

'_Fuck you, McGonagall. Take that stick out of your bloody arse.'_

His face reddened with a mixture of fury and embarrassment, and he leaned down, clutching his calf.

"Sorry Professor," he muttered quietly, "leg cramp."

Nodding slowly, the teacher turned back to the board, waving her wand to write the exam details on the black surface.

Looking around the classroom, he found that most of the eyes had turned away from him, focusing again on the topic of the exams. However, he did find a particularly pretty pair of amber eyes looking his way.

They were quickly hidden behind a curtain of wavy brown hair, masking any emotion that may be found in their liquid amber depths.

He watched her, watched the way her body shifted every so often, watching as she began to scribble furiously as though her very life depended upon it.

He looked to the board, finding nothing new on it, finding that no one else was taking notes. In fact, Professor McGonagall had actually instructed them to open their books.

He glanced back to Hermione, realizing for the first time that she was writing in a new notebook, a book he had never seen before in his life.

Jealous fury swamped his thoughts, his teeth clenching with the effort to not demand answers from the petite brunette.

If she was staying because of Malfoy, there was going to be hell to pay.

* * *

When in need of solitude and silence, the library was usually the best choice. In this date and time, however, the library would be the worst possible place to stay; it was crowded with students doing last minute essays or studying before the holidays began the following week.

The best place to hide, according to Harry and Ginny, was the Room of Requirement.

Content to find the place void of all life, they entered the room, finding a place similar to the Gryffindor Common Room, the walls lined with shelves stacked to bursting point, desks set up, and, in case things got a touch kinky, a bed in a nearby corner.

Perhaps the bed was simply because Harry felt sleepy and found studying had this uncanny ability to make him fall asleep. The couple was not exactly certain, but they were rather grateful for this lovely nook to hide away from the crowding students.

To be more specific, to hide from Ron.

They had listened to him rant and rave for a good four hours after Transfiguration, forced to listen as his fury exploded in a flurry of crude words and angry outbursts. Of course, Harry had to admit that he had a right to be a bit miffed; Hermione had not only ignored him all day but she had had the gall to walk up to McGonagall and loudly state she was now staying for Christmas.

Right in front of Ron, Harry, and Ginny.

It had taken Harry every ounce of strength to keep Ron from doing something he would most definitely regret.

Harry had proceeded to drag Ron into the hall, down and around a corner, and had to hold him in place for a good five minutes before the redhead had cooled enough to be released.

The ranting and raving had begun, to the point where Ginny and Harry had been forced to sneak away from the Common Room under Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Ron had been too preoccupied, sulking and raging in his room, to notice their departure.

So now they sat at the desk nearest to the large fireplace in the room, both exhausted.

"Harry," Ginny muttered, "I don't think I'll be able to deal with this all vacation."

The brunet lifted his head from where it had been lying on his arms, green eyes glowing with unspoken curiosity.

"It's just…I know he's my brother, and I care for him a lot, but sometimes it just gets to be…"

"Too much?"

She sighed heavily, pillowing her head with her arms. "You have no idea," she mumbled.

Letting out a quiet laugh, Harry pulled out a parchment from his bag, replying; "I believe I do, Gin. Remember, I'm his best mate; whenever he and 'Mione got into fights before, he always bitched to me. Trust me; I'm as sick of this as you are."

"But," she lifted her head, gesturing wildly with her hands, "I don't get it!"

He arched a brow, silently asking her to continue as he pulled out a quill.

"Why would she do this? I don't understand. Mum was looking so forward to seeing her, and her parents were supposed to join us this year! She knew how much this Christmas meant to everyone! Why is she suddenly changing her mind like that? I don't understand."

"I'm just a clueless as you are," Harry replied, unfurling the parchment to find the list of texts he needed to read for his Potions exam in two days.

They sat in silence for a while, unsure whether it was tense or not, as Harry magically brought several texts to the table, flipping them and labeling the appropriate pages. This year, he had adjusted fairly quickly to the idea that Hermione would not be able to help as much as she used to; she simply had far too much work to do on her own and couldn't always be present to spell check or make sure their facts were straight.

Ron, like always, had a difficult time adjusting and had spent the better part of the first two weeks back ranting about how she was ungrateful and used them.

Mentally, Harry had let out a sardonic laugh at that statement. He had quickly realized after the war just how much they had used and abused her. He knew that she never took glory, knew that she stayed in the shadows, only useful when it came to her brains or particularly tricky spells.

Ron said that she was kind, that she wanted it to be that way, that she was nice enough to let him – Ron – have the limelight for the first time.

But, hadn't Ron been in the limelight back in fifth year, when they won the Quidditch Cup without Harry's help? Hadn't he gotten glory back in second year, when helping Harry find the Basilisk, when it was Hermione who had done all of the research?

The times when Hermione had been happiest, especially during the Yule Ball in fourth year, Harry and Ron had decided to ruin them with their cruel words. Harry realized with shame that he had followed Ron's antics on those particular occasions and was as much to blame as Ron was.

Biting back a sigh, he wondered if what Hermione was doing, was something they deserved. Even during the war, he had neglected her thoughts and feelings. They barely focused on the fact that she'd been tortured, barely thanked her for saving their arses Merlin knows how many times. She had risked her very life, spelling Harry's face to change, willing to be tortured and killed because of who they were and what they stood for. She had screamed but had not said a word.

Had they ever really thanked her for that?

Burying his face in his hands with a loud groan, Harry realized just how much they had mistreated her in the past. Even now, they told her that she was wrong, telling her that she was mistaken, ordering her to come with them for the holidays, refusing to believe that, maybe, Draco Malfoy did deserve a happy Christmas…

"No."

Realization hit him with the strength of a freight train and his head suddenly lifted, facing Ginny's perplexed expression.

"What's the matter, Harry?" She reached out, gently touching his hand. "You've suddenly gone all pale. Are you okay?"

"I…I don't know…but…but Ron won't be." Horror and determination flashed suddenly in his eyes. "We can't tell him, Gin, we can't tell Ron. No matter what he does or says, we can't tell him. Do you understand?"

Furrowing her brows, she pursed her lips in confusion at Harry's strange words.

"Harry, I have no idea what you're talking about." Reaching forward to cup his face with her hands, she gazed into his eyes, the swirling emerald depths she loved so much. "What's the matter?"

"I…I think I know why Hermione's staying behind, Gin. Oh God, we can't tell Ron; he'll go mad. He'll kill her…if he doesn't kill him first."

"You're not making any sense, Harry!" Ginny cried, wondering if someone had somehow placed a spell on the man. "What are you trying to tell me?"

He leapt to his feet suddenly, sending a bottle of ink crashing to the ground to stain the floor black. Ignoring the ink to the point of actually stepping in it, he began to pace wildly.

"He never had a real Christmas, Gin! He never had a real _Christmas_! Don't you understand? She's staying at Hogwarts for _Christmas_ with _him_! She wants to give him the real Christmas he never had! Jesus, she's gone mad, completely mental."

"You're not talking about…?"

"Malfoy! Hermione is staying behind to be with Draco Malfoy!" Harry shouted. "She's staying behind to give Draco Malfoy his perfect bloody Christmas!"

Ginny collapsed in her seat, having stood momentarily to try and ease Harry.

"Oh bloody hell; Ron's going to go mental."

"No." Harry rounded on her, pointing at her savagely. "We do _not_ tell Ron! We can't!"

"But why, Harry? Ron deserves to know just as much as we do! I don't understand. Why can't we tell him? We can't possibly keep something like this from him!" She stayed seated, crying out her words in confusion and dismay.

"You said it yourself," he paused in his pacing, "he'll go bloody mental. He'd try to kill everyone who got in his way and then he'd throttle her. We can't possibly tell him. At least…not during the holidays." He sighed heavily, running his hands through his already messy hair. "But…you're right. We'll have to tell him at some point in time."

"When, Harry? When is it going to be the right time to tell him that the woman he's in love with is ditching him to be with another man? It'll cut him in half."

"I know…Jesus, I bloody well know. He's been pining after her for years, was planning on making their relationship official this Christmas…and now _this_ happens!"

"He's going to be heart broken." Ginny almost sobbed the word, terrified at the thought of her brother's heart being torn to shreds.

"But Gin…we…we don't know if she's doing…anything…you know. It could be just to give him a happy Christmas." Harry felt like he was stretching out on a limb, searching for a truth he wasn't sure even existed. He needed to find something, some piece of evidence that could salvage the suddenly shredded relationship between Ron and Hermione.

Ginny slowly stood up, taking Harry's hands in hers. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Harry, we really don't know anything right now," she murmured, wanting to ease his worries as well as her own. She wasn't certain if the words were spoken to ease her mind or his. "All we're doing is assuming, and that's not going to get us anywhere. No," she added at the hardened look in his eyes, "we are not going to waste our time trying to find 'facts'. We are going to sit back down, do our studying, and forget about this."

"But…but Gin…what if…?"

"No more 'what if's, Harry. There's really nothing we can do; she already told McGonagall she's staying, and it's too late for her to change her decision. We'll tell Ron that's she staying for Head duties; we spoke to her and she realized that she had a duty as Head Girl to stay and ensure that the remaining students were safe. Okay?"

She was definitely saying these words to ease her anxieties more than his. She just couldn't believe what Harry was saying and, yet, she believed every word of it, which in turn only increased her fears.

"Harry, we'll see what happens after the holidays, okay? We'll go from there. For now, we'll focus on our schoolwork and finding presents for everyone. Does that sound good? No worrying about Hermione and Ron; it's really none of our business." That, too, was said more to herself than her lover.

Harry slowly nodded, letting Ginny hold him before leading him back to the desk.

Ginny sighed softly; Hermione may be thinking that it was going to be smooth sailing, but, as Ginny eased Harry back into his seat, she knew that there would be nothing but rough seas ahead.

'_Ron is going to go bloody mental.'_  


* * *

The Common Room was pleasantly silent. Hermione was reclined comfortably on the crimson sofa; a silver pillow keeping her head elevated just enough so that she could read every word on the page.

Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, her teeth occasionally darting out to capture her lower lip, on which she would suckle and gnaw until she either lost feeling or lost her thread of concentration.

In her right hand was her quill, the feather occasionally tickling her nose as it spun between her fingers.

Changing positions, draping a foot over the back of the couch, she reveled in the comfort the odd position brought as she continued to focus on the text before her, eyes unwavering and mind whirling with thoughts and processes.

No, Hermione Granger was not doing homework; she had completed all of her essays and finished studying for all her tests a good hour ago. And no, she was not currently engrossed in her favourite book, _Hogwarts: A History_.

So what was Miss Granger so focused on?

"No, no, and no, I can't possibly do that in that order," she sighed heavily, scratching two lines and switching them around. "There. Play first and then we'll get cozy in front of the fire." She smiled softly.

The title of the notebook was nonexistent, unless someone were to open it to the third page. There, in her neat, clean handwriting, one would find _Ten Ways to Give Draco Malfoy a Happy Christmas_.

Tapping her left foot – the one over the couch's back – to unheard music, she suckled on the tip of the quill as she considered her options for how to give Draco the best Christmas ever. First off, however, she needed to make him like this time of year.

This meant that she had to get him to like snow.

That part, she knew, had to come first before anything else. Snow was as essential to Christmas as Christmas pudding and presents. Perhaps, deep down, she was not just trying to give him the perfect Christmas but the best time of his life. From the way she understood things, it was easy to assume that Draco's childhood had been void of all childish toys and activities. Perhaps the idea of playing in the snow, allowing Draco to forget all responsibilities, was just another way for her to break through his stone exterior and find his warm heart.

It was in there, somewhere, she just needed the right tools and methods to break it out of its frozen cage.

Glancing at her list, she was again torn between two activities; watching and learning Christmas stories, and buying and decorating the Christmas tree.

Unsure of which to do first, she wondered if, perhaps, she should just begin the movie-watching first and continue it after the tree was bought and decorated.

"Jeez, I'm smart, I should've thought of that before," she scolded herself, jotting down several notes in the margin.

Under normal circumstances, Hermione would be considering how to deal with Harry and Ron, especially since she saw Ron being nearly dragged from the classroom after she announced her decision to stay. She'd avoided him all day in order to avoid confrontation, going to the point of dining in the Heads' Common Room in order to prevent contact with Ron at dinner.

Needless to say, she was far too engrossed in her task at hand to think of her best friends. They would, eventually, come to their senses and realize that nothing they said would get her to think or do otherwise. She was staying and giving Draco Malfoy the only true Christmas he would ever have.

Even if it meant ruining her relationship with her best friends.

As this thought crossed her mind, a wave of melancholy slowly drifted through her, causing the quill to fall from the notebook and her eyes to close. She was willing to risk her friendship, the one true friendship she ever had, for a man who was still considered as her enemy.

Why?

Letting her head fall back, she draped an arm over the armrest, letting the quill dangle just above the floor.

Why was she willing to push away her only real friends – Harry, Ron, and Ginny – because Draco had never had a Christmas? Was it not just a little bit silly, if not stupid? What was her motive for this, aside from pity? Was there some deeper reason, some deeper connection that even she had not recognized or understood?

Sighing heavily, her fingers twitched around the quill as she fought for reason. She was staying because she felt bad, right? She felt sad that Draco had never had a real Christmas. She was upset because everyone, even the child of a known murderer, deserved some happiness in their lives.

So why was she having troubles accepting those reasons?

"I don't know, in the name of Merlin, I just don't know."

She was Hermione Granger, used to knowing all facts and understanding all reasons. This sudden loss of reason, this sudden acknowledgement that she didn't know everything, both irritated her and terrified her.

And she had just begun her project.

She just barely heard the Common Room door open and shut, listening to the footsteps of Draco as he entered the space.

"Granger, do you realize that Weasel is outside ranting and raving right now?"

This caught her attention, drawing her thoughts away from reasons and facts to the words coming out of Draco's mouth.

Shutting her book, she continued to laze on the couch when her immediate reaction was to leap to her feet, throw open the door, and hex Ron the hell away. However, the calm side of her mind, the little inkling of sanity and reality she had left, reminded her that she wanted to avoid confrontation, not start one.

So, she concluded that she would remain in her current position and attempt to ignore Ron as much as possible, not that she could hear his 'ranting and raving's from where she sat.

"Granger, did you hear me?" She heard him come closer to where she lay and sighed softly.

"I heard you, Malfoy, and I intend on ignoring Ron at this moment in time," she said quietly, closing her eyes after having opened them at Draco's words.

"W…well, don't you look comfortable." His voice was closer now, roughly to her left, and she knew that he was standing behind the couch, watching her lie in her strange but comfortable position.

"How the hell can you consider lying like that comfortable?" She found this odd; he said she looked comfortable one second and then asked her how the next. Draco was quite odd.

"I don't know," she replied. "It just is, I suppose. I hope," she added, "that you made sure Ron didn't hear the password."

"You're odd," he muttered quietly, his voice drifting as he moved around the room. She heard the armchair squeak slightly as he sat in it. "And no, I made sure Weasel didn't hear it. The statue asked me for it and I did what we agreed on."

Her brow arched and her eyes opened, head lifting as she looked at him in the armchair. His bag had fallen to the floor, along with his sweater and his tie was now crooked. She had gotten used to this image of Draco over the past few months; it was his way of unwinding after a particularly long and exhausting day.

"You and Aphrodite agreed on something?" Her thoughts drifted to the statue of Aphrodite rising out of the water, the forms of the four House symbols engraved in the waves.

He nodded slowly, his lips forming a small smirk. "We agreed that if someone was around who shouldn't hear the password, all I had to do was gesture for her the open."

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "And that gesture is…?"

The smirk broadened and he lifted his hand, lowering all of the fingers save for the middle. "I flip her off."

"That's just crude," she scoffed, glaring in his direction.

"She found it funny," he chuckled, completely undoing his tie and letting it hang limply around his neck. "She laughed the whole time and then flipped Weasel off as she refused him entrance."

"Dear Merlin," Hermione sighed, covering her face with her hand, "you are a bad influence."

He chuckled again, enjoying their conversation. He had thought that during this time, she would be too irked to have a pleasant conversation with him, but he had thought wrong. She appeared exhausted, faint circles under her eyes, her bottom lip raw from being constantly gnawed on, but she also looked pleased and relaxed.

It was, he assumed, probably because she finished all her essays and studying barely an hour ago.

"OI! HERMIONE! OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR! NOW!"

"Bloody hell," Hermione groaned, "don't tell me he managed to successfully used _Sonorus!_"

"It sounds like it," Draco drawled, the smirk still in place even though irritation now filled his eyes.

"OPEN THE DOOR, HERMIONE!"

"Can't Aphrodite do anything?" Hermione sighed loudly, knowing fully well that all the statue could do was alert other statues and pictures, who would then alert a Professor. But that whole procedure would take a good ten minutes or so.

"OPEN! THE! DOOR! I'M SICK OF WAITING OUT HERE!"

"Granger…"

"AND IF THIS FUCKING STATUE FLIPS ME OFF ONE MORE TIME I'M GOING TO TEAR HER FUCKING HEAD OFF!"

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"STOP SNOGGING THAT FUCKING MALFOY LONG ENOUGH TO OPEN THE DAMN DOOR! WE NEED TO FUCKING TALK!"

"If he doesn't stop shouting like a bloody fool, I'm going to be forced to go out there and hex the hell out of him."

Peering through her fingers, her mouth twitched slightly at the thought.

"OPEN THIS DOOR OR I'M GOING TO BREAK IT DOWN!"

"I suppose I would go out there and help you right now."

Draco's chuckling was broken by more of Ron's shouting, and the blond frowned.

"What in the name of Salazar Slytherin did you do to piss the bloke off? And if it was sleeping with Potter, please don't tell me; I do not need to have nightmares."

Snorting rudely, Hermione lowered her hand and gestured to him in the same way he gestured to the door. "And you said I was crude," he muttered.

"HERMIONE! IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR THIS INSTANT, I'M…I'M…"

"Thank Merlin; he's at a loss for words!" Draco cried gleefully, enjoying the sudden silence as Ron thought over his threats. "Now, Granger, please answer my question so that I have an idea of how to hex Weasel."

There seemed to be a lot of sighing going on lately, Hermione realized as she sighed in exasperation. "We had a childish argument," she muttered in embarrassment. She really did not want to tell him the exact topic of said argument.

"You two always argue. As I recall, you spent half of your years here arguing in the halls. So what's different about this than the dozen others you've had so far this year?"

Draco had a point, she realized glumly. In fact, he had two points; she and Ron did fight quite a bit but Ron was never this violent or insistent in a confrontation after an argument. This had not even been their worst argument but his reaction was by far the worst.

It wasn't his reaction, however, that made her feel so down. It was the realization that they argued so much. It was true, they did have their differences and were both very stubborn people, but nothing could excuse the incessant arguments they had had over the years. In fact, Ron seemed to always be ready for an argument, whether it be with her or Harry. It was like he was always looking for a fight, for a way to prove someone wrong and do it in such a fashion that everyone heard and saw.

Rubbing her eyes, she pushed back the melancholic thoughts and focused on the task at hand; trying to tell Draco just why Ron was so bloody pissed.

"He's not too happy with me," she stated blandly.

"Obviously," Draco snorted.

"If you must know, it's because I decided to stay at Hogwarts this Christmas."

She waited for his reaction, waited to see him begin to freak out, to shout that she couldn't stay, that he had to have the Common Room to himself.

Instead of confusion or frustration, she noticed that he actually smirked in a very Slytherin fashion.

"Really? Wow, that's unbelievable. The Gryffindor Princess spending Christmas away from her Gryffindor Princes? Well, that will certainly spice up the gossip around here."

"Gossip? We have gossip?"

Draco couldn't believe his ears; in all of her years here, with all her friends and all of the people she knew – specifically Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and Ginny Weasley – Hermione was still ignorant to the gossip circles.

He just couldn't understand how someone could be more socially inept.

"You had no idea that there was gossip here? No idea at all? Granger, you are unbelievable."

Narrowing her eyes at the amusement in his voice, she fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "How am I unbelievable? Just because I don't listen to gossip or –"

"YOU WHORE! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!!"

Pain lanced through her at the foul word directed towards her. Normally, if it were anyone else saying it, she would be able to deal with it and ignore it, but because it was a trusted friend, because it was someone she had once wanted to marry, it hurt.

She wasn't aware of movement until she heard Draco cursing loudly before he reached the door. She sat up, twisting her body to look just in time as he opened the door, stuck his wand out, and shouted, "_Stupefy!_"

She heard a thud as Ron's stunned body landed on the ground and she leapt to her feet, rushing to the door to watch as Draco silenced Ron and put him into a Body-Bind curse.

"Malfoy! Stop this! What are you doing?" she shouted, reaching out and yanking his arm down at he prepared for another spell.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he replied angrily. "I'm stopping this bloody git before he goes too far."

"It doesn't mean you have to hex him again!"

He spun around, his cold grey eyes flashing as they took in the sight of Hermione. She stood before him; skirt rumpled, tie askew, one slipper on and her hair a wavy mess around her face. But it wasn't her appearance that made his heart suddenly tug violently; it was the sight of her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Tears he knew were caused by pain. He knew this because he couldn't count the number of times the redhead lying on the ground had caused her such pain.

His anger was inexplicable, his rage and fury at the way Ron treated her was without reason. It was true, they had become rather friendly with another during the past few months, of that he was certain, and he had even begun to, slowly, care for her. Perhaps not love, or even consider her to be a friend, but he cared enough to ask her when she was tired. He cared enough to ask her what was wrong when she looked stressed.

He cared enough to barge out here and risk expulsion because someone decided to call her a whore.

"Why?"

The word was out of his mouth before he could even register it in his thoughts. It was not spoken to her, not asking her why she wanted him to stop. It was to himself, asking why he cared so darn much when they've only truly known each other for four months.

Maybe…maybe it was because of what happened two years ago…

"Because it's just a word, Malfoy!" she cried, breaking his reveries. "It's just some stupid word like any other out there. He doesn't deserve to get hexed because he's a git."

"But…"

"Look, Malfoy, I appreciate you coming out here," she said softly, not once looking to the paralyzed figure of Ron, "but I must insist that we go back into the Common Room before a teacher comes along."

"Why, Granger? I don't understand. I'm not an idiot. I've seen the way he and Potter treat you. Why do you always come to their rescue whenever somebody wants to help you?" He was nearly shouting, frustrated with her incessant kindness.

"Because he's not worth the consequences," she said, smiling gently. She reached out and touched his elbow. "Please, let's go back inside and leave him for a Professor; I'm sure someone will be along any minute."

He arched a brow in question and she replied, "The statues and paintings; it's like a security force."

Nodding slowly, she watched as he made his way back into the Common Room, completely unhappy and she was fully aware that he made sure to kick and step on Ron on his way back.

Looking over to the form of Ron, she walked over and glanced down at him.

"It's funny, Ron, right now I think that Malfoy deserves Christmas a lot more than you." With that, she turned and walked back into the Common Room.

**Success!**

**Chapter 3 will be posted tomorrow. **

**Please review, I love reviews, and if you see any mistakes please point them out in the review and I'll be sure to correct them at the same time I post Chapter 3.**

**THANK YOU!**


	4. Reparations

**Note: one change I made from the war is found here. Spoiler alerts! **

**Change from war: Tonks is alive. I didn't want poor Teddy Lupin to be all alone; it would be too depressing. **

**Note: Thanks to Hecate's Diamon who, while reviewing the first chapter, pointed out my newby mistake of saying "Enchanted Forest" instead of "Forbidden Forest." This prompted me to check all of my chapters. Thank you very much. Your gift will still remain either my eternal love or a piece of lemon pie from future chapters. I would offer Draco, but (imo) he belongs to Hermione.  
**

**Chapter 3**

**Reparations**

"You're a bloody idiot."

She stopped at the words, the door barely shut behind her as Draco's voice assaulted her ears.

"What?"

She saw him pacing by the fireplace, his body drawn tight with frustration, his cold eyes stormy as he pushed back obvious fury. Every step was violence-filled, reminding her of a predator on the loose, furious after having lost its prey.

"You're an idiot!" he cried, rounding on her. "I don't understand your reasoning! You say that he's not worth it, that I shouldn't hex him and a whole pile of other bullshit. If you say he's not worth it, then why did you let him make you cry?"

She winced at his words, hands twisting painfully in anxiety as he shouted at her. She didn't understand why he was so infuriated; he had no reason to be acting in such a way because she'd been called a bitch.

But he had mentioned her tears. Had he seen her crying before? Had he watched Ron scream at her until she sobbed her heart out in some dark corner, alone and away from the world?

If he did, then why did it seem to bother him so much?

What was going on? It was as though in a matter of days Draco had completely changed.

Everyone had changed.

"Look, Malfoy," she began quietly, not wanting to go from one confrontation to another, "no matter how many times we've argued, Ron is still my friend. Just because he called me a bitch doesn't mean our friendship is over and he deserves to be hexed. He's a git, not a murderer."

"How can you say this? At least I've never made you cry!" he shouted, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "You're so bloody unreasonable!"

"You're right."

He stopped in his tracks, hands caught in his hair as his eyes looked over to her. "What did you just say?"

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and fought back the bitter pain that filled her at this realization. "I said that you're right. You never really made me cry. If I remember correctly, Ron was actually the first person here to make me cry."

He saw the way pain filled her face, saw the way her hands clenched and unclenched by her sides, and watched as her body tensed. He knew she was hurt, he knew that she wanted nothing more than to hide in her room and cry, and he, inexplicably, wanted to go over there and comfort her.

But he knew better than to do that; they weren't friends and they certainly weren't lovers. They were just acquaintances; two people forced to live together and forced to understand each other.

It was because he wasn't used to seeing her hurt, he thought, that's why he wanted to comfort her. He was used to seeing her strong and confident, not shaking with the effort to not cry.

That's all. He just wanted the normal Hermione back so that things could go back to normal.

He couldn't care about her.

"Look, Granger, I know that you say he's not worth it, that he's just a git and it isn't worth getting expelled because of him, but you have to stand up to him one day. You can't keep letting him push you around like this. It's … almost abusive."

"He's just upset because I don't want to spend Christmas with him and his family," she muttered, trying to ignore the last word Draco said. Ron was anything but abusive. Stupid? Yes. But abusive, he was certainly not.

"Besides," she added as she began to head for the staircase leading to the bedrooms, "I've been called worse. You should know."

She disappeared up the stairs before he could say another word. Frustrated beyond belief, unable to understand just why she was so stubborn and unbelievably stupid at times, he picked up the nearest item – a pillow – and tossed it angrily into the fire.

Gleefully, he threw himself on the sofa, watching as it caught fire and began to burn with fervor. If only it were Ron in that fire, burning away into ashes so that he couldn't bother anyone ever again.

It was funny; all throughout the years Draco had pretended that his hatred for Ron had been because he was a blood-traitor; he was actually hateful of Ron because of his personality. There was something about the redhead, something distasteful and almost disgusting that repulsed Draco and made him want to keep as much distance from the Weasley as possible.

Ron had a very foul personality. It was true; he could be loyal, he could be amazingly loving and caring, but it things went wrong or someone seemed to argue with him, he became distasteful and cruel.

He abused his friends, taking them for granted, and even the war had been unable to teach him to care for others and appreciate his friendships. He used Hermione for her intellect; Draco knew that the weasel would not be passing if it weren't for Hermione. At least Potter seemed to be doing relatively well without Hermione, but it was obvious that Ron used and abused her when it came to homework. He was getting T's and D's on quite a few pieces.

Draco Malfoy knew and understood the real Ron Weasley more than anyone else did; by living with someone of that personality, he developed the ability to point them out in a crowd. He could spot an abuser from a mile away.

Breathing deeply, he buried his face in his hands as frustration swept through him. He didn't understand why people befriended those bastards. He could never understand how people could defend them and claim their innocence, especially when the abuse was so evident.

A part of him, a little part that he had only recently discovered but was yet to understand, prayed that Hermione never married a man like Ronald Weasley.

Hermione deserved better than that.

* * *

Professor McGonagall was on her nightly stroll, surveying the castle, enjoying the sense of peace and relaxation in the air as the students hid in the library or Common Rooms. She knew that the sense of peace would be occasionally broken, the catching of a few students snogging in corners or sneaking about, but, during this particular time of year, nothing could really destroy her secret mirth.

She loved Christmas and everything it represented. She couldn't remember the last time that she'd been able to have a true, calming Christmas. It had to be at least eight years since she'd been able to relax this much during the holiday, what with Basilisks, murderers, and balls to deal with.

Over time, she'd adjusted, fighting back the waves of depression that had a tendency to tug at her heart during this time of year. She had to admit, she missed Professor Dumbledore and his twinkling eyes. She missed Severus Snape and his sarcastic but witty remarks – she even secretly missed his greasy hair. She missed Charity Burbage and her soft voice. She even missed Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, their jovial laughter and amazing discussions.

She wondered, briefly, how Nymphadora was handling this Christmas…alone with little Teddy.

She would have to send them some nice Christmas cards and a cute present for the child. She did this every year, spoiling the little boy as much as she could and dared. He'd even begun to call her Auntie Minnie.

This little factoid, however, she kept to herself. She could barely stand the thought of the students finding out. It was bad enough that Filius and Pomona teased her on a daily basis, finding it quite quaint to send her messages titled, '_To Auntie Minnie,'_ even going as far as to call her said name in the halls on some occasions.

Adjusting her robes, Minerva paused by the window, looking out onto the grounds. She had a reputation to keep; she was seen as strict, uptight, and very serious. She could not be seen sighing or smiling over Christmas, nor could she allow people to call her Minnie in public.

It just wasn't serious or strict.

But she loved it all nonetheless.

Staring out onto the grounds, she watched as darkness swamped the land. This darkness, however, was different from the one that had consumed the world for the past eight years. This was soothing, relaxing, a world of peace blanketed in the calmness of night. The stars twinkled merrily, shimmering and dancing in the sky as the moon waned and glowed.

Below the velvet blanket that was the sky, the snow glimmered softly, the new blanket untouched by the raging feet of childish students. The Forbidden Forest was a sea of darkness, broken by blankets and caps of ivory.

They lived in a beautiful world.

Tearing her eyes from the window, she smiled to herself as she continued her walk, thinking of how glad she was that they were able to save this world from destruction. The beauty was rescued and enhanced, the kindness increased, and the joy tripled since the death of Lord Voldemort.

Peace reigned once again.

"Headmistress! Headmistress!"

At the sound of the squeaky voice, Minerva turned to the painting of five mice playing poker – a joke on the Muggle painting of dogs playing cards – and her smile faded.

"Yes Aster?" She focused her attention on the mice on the far right, the one who had spoken.

"It appears that there is quite a scene in front of Aphrodite. Seems that a student is trying to get into the Heads' Tower and he is turning quite violent."

Frowning, Minerva felt her forehead crease with irritation. This always happened; whenever she had finally achieved a true sense of peace and calm, there was always something that destroyed every ounce of it.

"Have any of the other Professors been notified?" she inquired.

"No," squeaked little Aster, pausing for a second to discard a card. "It is our understanding that he is a Gryffindor, so we felt that you must be notified before the other Professors."

She knew, deep down, that it could only be one Gryffindor in particular.

"Very well, I'm on my way. Send word to Aphrodite and tell her to wait until my arrival." She turned and began her trek up to the North Wing on the seventh floor, unhappy beyond belief.

Twice already Mr. Weasley had inquired on the passwords to the Heads' Tower, making that unbelievable claim that Hermione had told it to him and he had forgottenit. Minerva, however, knew otherwise. Ms. Granger was not stupid enough to give the password to anyone and would not risk the life of her roommate.

Minerva knew that Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy were becoming well acquainted. They argued less in the hallways and were seen smiling a touch more often to one another. She had even heard that they had, willingly, worked together on a Potion in Advanced Potions. That, once upon a time, would have been unbelievable if Minerva hadn't seen the progression herself.

She also knew that Mr. Weasley refused to accept said relationship and tried, at every chance, to change Ms. Granger's mind and get her to hate Mr. Malfoy. Why, she could barely understand; all she knew was that Mr. Weasley still harbored a childish hatred for the man.

Nineteen-year-old boys were so fickle.

"Headmistress! Please, just a moment."

Turning on her heel, she stopped in front of a painting of Eilfwyn, a famous Irish witch. "If it's about Mr. Weasley trying to break into the Heads' Tower, I was already notified by Aster."

"I know that, Minerva, but I was told to tell you that Mr. Weasley has been, well, incapacitated."

Sighing heavily, she covered her face with her hand as frustration began to consume her.

"Who?"

"It seems that, from what I could gander, Mr. Weasley called the Head Girl a foul word and the Head Boy came out to hex him." Eilfwyn chuckled and her blue eyes actually twinkled. "Quite entertaining, from what I could understand, but, you know how Gennie tells a lot of tall tales, so I'm not even sure if it's true."

It was true, Guinevere, a portrait in the South Tower, had a tendency to exaggerate or make up lies to make life seem just that much more interesting. Minerva, however, knew that this story would probably have some credibility.

"Tell the other portraits that I will deal with it when I get there, and to have them only stop me if something truly severe happens."

"Define severe, Headmistress, because some of us have very different idea of what 'severe' means."

Sighing loudly with exasperation, Minerva bit back a curse and tried to not throw her hat at the painting. "Only if someone is dead or the Dark Lord is, somehow, back. Understood?"

With that said and done, she hurried through the hallways, fearful that Mr. Malfoy may still be out of the room and torturing Mr. Weasley to death. Mr. Weasley may not be the brightest bloke in Britain – or the world – but even he didn't deserve to be tortured for not knowing when to shut his mouth.

Rounding the corner and hurrying up the stairs, she could hear maniacal laughter, high-pitched and almost screaming, and she took the steps three at a time. Turning left, she found a rather oddly comical sight.

Mr. Weasley was lying on the ground, eyes glaring furiously, frozen and silenced, unable to move or scream, while the statue of Aphrodite was currently on her knees, laughing loudly.

"Dear Merlin!" Minerva cried, rushing forward, removing the spells on the body and watching him get to his feet.

"Headmistress," he cried, face flushed red with embarrassment and checked fury, "Malfoy! He just barged out and attacked me! I just wanted to talk with Hermione! I just asked him to go inside, get her, and he came back out and attacked me!"

"Oh, you prat, don't lie!" spat Aphrodite from where she stood. Her beautiful ivory face was twisted with revulsion. "You were out here screaming like an idiot, making all these stupid demands."

"Because Malfoy wouldn't let me in! I asked him, politely and everything, if he could let me in just so that I could talk to Hermione. But he wouldn't let me!"

"You called her a whore!" shrieked Aphrodite. "You called her a whore! Don't give me this bullshit that he wouldn't let you in!"

"Aphrodite! Mr. Weasley! Please calm down!" Minerva cried out, gesturing with her hands threateningly. "If neither of you calm down then I will not be able to get to the bottom of this."

Slowly, the statue nodded and crossed her arms under her breasts, waiting patiently for Minerva to make the next move. Ron, too, quieted, letting his arms hand limply by his side, head hanging while his eyes glared at the statue.

"Now," Minerva breathed, "let's get to the bottom of things. Aphrodite, could you please let me in? I need to speak with both Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger."

"Yes, Headmistress," the statue said softly, moving aside to reveal the doorway to the Heads' Tower. Pausing at the door, she gestured for Ron to follow, reminding him to keep his mouth shut and hands to himself. She made it clear that she could easily make his Christmas vacation a living hell.

They found Draco sitting in the living room, the fireplace ablaze as a pillow burned away. His hands were rubbing his face with exasperation, hair a mess, his bag, sweater, and tie discarded.

Stepping around a fuzzy, gold slipper, Minerva cleared her throat, alerting Draco to her presence. The blond looked up, peering through his fingers before leaping to his feet. It was not because of her presence that he jumped to battle; it was the way Ron glared at him, the tension nearly visible in the way the air shook and thickened.

"Professor! Why did you let him in?"

She could see the distress and chained anger in the blond's eyes and watched the way his body rippled with adrenaline and apprehension.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I felt the need to find why I found this boy, lying paralyzed and silenced, outside of the Heads' Tower." Her eyes flashed sternly, warning both boys that if any fight broke out, both would be severely punished. "Where is Ms. Granger?"

"In her room," Draco said, his voice lowering considerably. "I'll go get her."

"Like hell you will!" Ron shouted suddenly, fists clenched tightly. "You won't go anywhere near her room!"

"I live with her, you dolt, I can go to her room whenever I please. Besides," he added, "I'm not the one who called her a whore."

"You…you…" Ron moved forward, stopped only by a hand on his shoulder.

"Also, I wouldn't want you knowing which window is hers, in case you get the idea to come and visit in the middle of night," Draco added quietly, his eyes hardening dangerously. "Anyway, I think she'd rather see me right now than you."

Minerva tightened her grip on Ron's shoulder as Draco turned, making his way up the stairs towards the bedrooms and bath.

Outside of her door, Draco let out a quiet breath, wondering if she was just as furious with him as she was with the Weasel downstairs. He had assumed that McGonagall would want to find some kind of answers, but letting Weasel into the Tower was just too much.

He prayed that she hadn't said the password aloud near him.

"Granger?" He knocked gently on the door. "You in there?"

"Where else would I be, Malfoy?" Her voice was muffled and distant; she was probably hiding in her bed, willing all the pain and frustration to go away.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "in the loo taking a shit?"

"That's just disgusting." He heard the faint laughter in her voice, knew that his crude words had a tendency to make her smile just a bit even in hard times. He had discovered that their first week together, when Weasel and Potty had, again, shouted and frustrated her beyond belief.

"Anyway, Granger, we have visitors. I think that you should put on some fancy clothes and get down in the Common Room."

"Who's there?" Her voice was closer now, less muffled, and he assumed that she was slowly making her way to the door, taking her time in deciding whether she should open it or not.

"McGonagall and Weasley. Maybe," he snickered, "you should come down in your knickers and piss off the Weasel a bit more."

"That's just foul," she muttered, opening the door to reach out and hit him across the face.

Jerking back in response, eyes hardening with annoyance, he touched his reddening cheek as he fought back the urge to call her every cruel name he knew.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he shouted, uncaring that McGonagall and Weasel were downstairs.

"I ought to hit you a bit more, for every time you sounded like a hypocrite," she snapped, hand lifting in response.

He winced and moved back, out of her range, knowing just how hard she could slap and punch. This wasn't the first time he'd been on the receiving end on one of her slaps.

Sighing softly, he knew that they weren't going to go anywhere until something he rarely said was spoken. He knew that his words before had been harsh and she had every right to be furious with him. He also knew that his words were right and that she was having a hard time accepting that. So, if she decided to take it out on him, then he would have to accept that consequence.

"Look, Granger, I'm…I'm sorry I said those things before. I was just…no girl deserves to be called a whore, especially not by their best friends."

She stopped in the tracks, mouth gaping, all fury gone from her face as shock replaced it. Her heart battered in her chest and her eyes widened.

He did not just say…?

He did, didn't he? Draco Malfoy just apologized to Hermione Granger. It was unthinkable. It was something that, in the total three times he's done it so far, had always caused her to become paralyzed with shock.

This, to Draco, was both amusing and getting old. Nudging her shoulder lightly, he glared down at her. "Stop looking like a bloody imbecile and hurry downstairs. McGonagall and Weasel aren't going to wait much longer. Don't forget to wear your knickers," he added before heading back to the Common Room.

He paused halfway down, his countdown ending, her rushing footsteps proving him right as she hurried after him.

"Why did you come get me? Why didn't Ron do it?" she demanded, grabbing his shoulder as made to move further down the steps.

He shrugged slightly, the action causing her hand to drop. "Weasel was being a prat and I didn't want to clean up the mess after you hexed him to bits and pieces. I also didn't want to be left alone with Weasel, because then I would hex him to bits and pieces and I would make you clean that mess."

She nodded slowly before passing him, heading down the stairs.

"Granger," he called.

"What?" she spun around to glare at his direction.

"You might want to look a bit more presentable."

Blushing darkly, she adjusted her skirt, which had hiked up to almost mid-thigh, and fixed her blouse. Straightened as much as she could, she kindly gestured to Draco before marching down the steps with him following and fighting back laughter.

He should not have taught her that gesture.

As soon as her foot touched the carpeted floor of the Common Room, tension swamped the air, making it difficult to breathe and move. She felt Ron's eyes on her, glaring at her furiously as she made her way to stand by the sofa. She knew that his eyes followed Draco's movements as well, looking at the way their clothing was disheveled, coming to untrue conclusion that she could see in his eyes.

"Good evening, Professor," she said softly, moving her gaze to face Minerva. "I'll assume that you are here to deal with Ronald."

The redhead winced; she only ever called him Ronald when she was truly pissed. He had said some hurtful things, but he found it hard to believe that she was this pissed.

"Yes, Ms. Granger, I would like to know everything that went on. Why did I find Mr. Weasley in the middle of the hallway, stupefied, paralyzed, and silenced?"

Draco bit back a snicker from beside Hermione, knowing that it was not a good idea to burst into laughter at this point in time. He, however, remained obediently silent as Hermione retold everything that had occurred, keeping the details to the barest minimum. She did not mention her argument with Draco afterwards, nor did she give any precise details on why Ron was ticked with her. She kept to the basics and when she was done, Minerva looked absolutely furious.

"Weasley!" she cried, turning on Ron. "You come here, make all of these demands, say that…that foul word, and act like you have been victimized? You will have detention with Professor Trelawney for the next two months and twenty points from Gryffindor."

"But…but…what about Christmas?" he stammered, obviously furious and appalled at the same time.

"You will still have the vacation; we have no right to forcibly keep you in the school. Besides, I believe that a break between you two would be good. Now, Mr. Malfoy, while you can justify your actions, I'm afraid that I must still punish you."

Draco waited for it, waiting impatiently for her to expel him. He had attacked a student; he had threatened to kill a student and used magic on him without any inkling of regret or guilt. He was not the Saintly Potter; he deserved expulsion.

Tensing, waiting for the response, he was barely aware of the way Hermione moved, just a bit, towards him. He could feel her heat, the way she leaned just a bit towards him in comfort. He was barely aware of it; the fear of expulsion was too strong.

"I believe a month of detention with Professor Sprout will be in store for you. Christmas break will not be included, of course, and twenty points from Slytherin." She turned, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Now, Mr. Weasley, allow me to escort you back to the Gryffindor Tower and I must insist that you do not have any more nightly excursions. You are a Prefect, you should act like one."

Ron's face reddened and he choked on his words, mouth flapping like a fish's. "I…I…" he stammered, at an obvious lack for words.

Draco sneered as Minerva turned her back, doing as many facial expressions as he could to demonstrate his hatred for the redhead. Ron's face became as red as his hair and he sought for some way to unleash his fury.

"Hermione," he said suddenly, causing Minerva to turn and glare in his direction. "You never told me why…why you're staying for Christmas."

Hermione blanched just the slightest bit, barely noticeable to those in the room, and she felt her body tense in fear. If she told the truth, Ron would become inconsolable and violent, while Draco would probably refuse to even look at her for the rest of her life.

There was just too much at stake.

"I…I just decided to stay," she said softly. "I am a Head Girl and I have a duty to protect the students here. I take the position very seriously, Ronald, and it's my way of helping out during these times. Besides," her voice softened even more, "there are a lot more students staying behind this year."

Ron wanted to spit in her face, to scream that she was lying and that she just wanted to stay to be with Draco. He wanted to run to her and punch her in the nose, to tell her that she was nothing but a bitch and a whore, refusing him but willingly going to Draco.

It was wrong, everything was so fucking wrong.

But he couldn't do anything about it right now; Minerva was watching.

He let her guide him from the Heads' Tower. He would find out the real reason. He had to.

* * *

She'd been avoiding him for the past few days. Whenever he stepped into the Tower, he could hear her retreating footsteps and the echo of her door slamming shut. He knew why; she was unhappy with him.

He sat by the window, looking out onto the grounds, just as she sat barely a week ago, watching the snow fall to cover the world in a glimmering blanket of ivory.

He had apologized for what he had said, which was something he rarely did, and he truly felt bad for upsetting her. They were acquaintances, were they not? He had every right to tell her when he thought she was being stupid.

Didn't he?

Perhaps she was just exhausted and not ready to deal with talking about Monday's events. This past week had been stressful, filled with exams and essays, added homework for the holidays and even more studying for surprise tests. He could understand if she just wanted to be alone for the time being.

In the past four months, if Draco had learnt anything it was that Hermione Granger preferred to avoid confrontations. Maybe it was because the war had taken its toll on her, one massive confrontation that ended the lives of hundreds of people. It made sense for her to want to avoid confrontation after that.

Rubbing his face with his hand, he felt the roughness of his cheeks. He hadn't had the time to shave this morning; he'd woken late and had just made it to the Charms exam. The stubble on his chin was rough, uncomfortable against his hand and something he rarely showcased.

Malfoys were supposed to be refined; beards were unrefined. They were messy, unruly, and very un-Malfoy-like.

Draco didn't like them because they were itchy. Plain and simple; beards were itchy and uncomfortable, and if they weren't, then he would probably sport one just to piss off his remaining living family.

Yanking off his tie, he tossed it onto the back of the nearest armchair, reclining in his seat as he fought for some sense of relaxation in these tense days. He knew, however, that this tension was nothing compared to the fear and anxiety the world felt during Lord Voldemort's existence.

Closing his eyes, he let out a quiet breath as he fought back the urge to recall the time of Voldemort's tirade. The world had been consumed in darkness, people jumping at every shadow, hearts pounding loudly in terror before beating feebly before death overwhelmed them. He had seen and done things no seventeen-year-old boy should be forced to see or do. He had heard screams and, even now, heard them in his sleep.

There was no solace.

Tearing his thoughts from despair and melancholy, he willed himself to find some way to repair the relationship established between him and Hermione.

She'd been avoiding him for a reason and he could only assume that it was because of what he'd said Monday. He noticed that she had also been avoiding Weasel, as well as Potty and Weaslette, although not as much as the first. He rarely saw her in the Great Hall and barely even saw her here; she was always hiding in her room.

The air felt tense and uncomfortable, making it difficult for him to relax even when she wasn't in the same room as him. It was something he was growing to dislike more and more.

This, however, only increased his determination to find a way to repair and remove it.

Opening his eyes, he looked back out the window, watching a few black forms moving about, playing joyfully in the snow.

Hermione liked the snow, didn't she?

He couldn't stand it, but she liked it.

Sighing heavily, having an idea of just what he could do to help ease the tension, he got to his feet and made his way to her room.

**Chapter 3 done.**

**Please notify me in the reviews if you see any errors in the text (writing errors, such as grammar or spelling), and please specify where and what the errors are in your reviews. I'll be sure to correct them as I update Chapter 4 and mention a thanks in the chapter as well.**

**Flames = perfect for cozy fires.**

**Love and adoration = EGO BOOST TO THE MAX!**

**Constructive criticism is welcome.**

**Also, please, please review. I love seeing people adding my story to their favourites, but it would make things ten times better if I knew WHY. So, even if it's just a little "I love your story" or something along those lines, please send me a review. Every review makes my day fifty times better. **

**Thanks. **


	5. For the Love of Snow

**Before I begin this chapter, I few a things (well, people) to address.**

**First: thanks you –L-Lawliet'sGirl-BabyBluewinx- for noticing a mistake in my previous chapter. For that, you get a piece of Hermione's future brownies.**

**Second note: while I do not mind people giving me suggestions or advice on plot or character portrayal, I do take offense to people telling me to adjust a character or plot because they dislike it or are not used to it. I do understand that Ron is not my character, but I am portraying as how I would see him reacting in this particular situation. I do not have to give the exact reasons why I see him reacting in said way, as I feel that, for the most part, I do not have to justify my actions. **

**I do understand that people have their opinions, and they are free to express their opinions, but I do not care for it when people tell me how to write or what to write. I do not mean this in a personal way, not to attack someone or to demean anyone, these are just my thoughts and I just do not care for having people tell me how/what to write because they do/don't like it written in a particular way. **

**Besides, most of the future chapters are already written and I am not rewriting them because someone doesn't like something.**

**Sorry if I seemed harsh. Now here's the chapter…**

**Chapter 4**

**For the Love of Snow…**

She hadn't really been avoiding him. She'd just…been avoiding him.

Hanging her head, Hermione looked down at the discarded notebook beside her, reading the flowing script, wondering just why she was hiding.

It was true, his words had hurt her; he was telling her that she was an idiot and that her best friend was abusive. It took a toll on a girl when someone she'd come to befriend told her that she really didn't know the people she thought she did.

If that made any sense whatsoever.

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her face with her hands, knowing that her mother would scold her for rubbing her eyes. She could care less at this point in time; she was exhausted with everything and just wanted Ron to be gone.

She couldn't stand him glaring at her in class any longer, nor could she withstand Harry's inquisitorial and pitying gaze. Ginny, she'd been avoiding nonstop, to the point of not even going to the library anymore. She would sneak in, take out the books needed, and shy away in the Heads' Tower.

She couldn't even handle Draco right now; everything was just a mess and her plans for the perfect Christmas were already getting jumbled and screwed up. And she hadn't even initiated the beginning process.

Lying down on the bed, she stared up at the canopy as she thought for some way to reset her plans and make sure that everything went well. She didn't want anything else to get screwed up because of Ron's childish reactions. She didn't want to spend the entire Christmas vacation avoiding Draco at all costs.

She wanted to give him the best Christmas ever, and by Merlin, she would do it!

If only it were that easy to get over the words he'd said to her.

What hurt most, she admitted, was that the words were true. Ron and Harry had used her; she'd been nothing but a means to an end for the major part of their relationship. Ron, more so than Harry, had used and abused her in all of her years at Hogwarts.

It was true; Ron had been the first to make her cry. He'd been the first to upset her to the point that she had ached and yearned to go home. She had argued with Harry, that was true, but he had never said such hurtful things to her.

Maybe he was just a bit more in touch with other people's feelings than Ron.

Picking up her notebook, she lay on her side, reading the notes she had put all over the place.

Draco…Draco had never made her cry. He'd called her names, yes, but he had never said them with such malice and cruelty as Ron had said it. Besides, she had called Draco names in return.

Still, she couldn't find any reason to justify why Draco had called her names, just as she couldn't justify Ron's actions or words.

Boys were weird.

But…she still felt bad for ignoring and being rude to Draco. He'd just been trying to protect her, trying to tell her that it wasn't right for Ron to treat her like that. He was being kind to her and she had returned his kindness with rude words.

Merlin, she'd been rather mean, hadn't she? After all of this time, after having been the most open person to the idea of developing a relationship with Draco, she was the one to say such vile things.

She felt horrible.

Leaping to her feet, she rushed to the door, swinging it open, intending on rushing and apologizing to him. Maybe…maybe she could then try to get him to go outside with her. She could begin to set her plan in motion.

As she took her first step out of the door, she found herself hitting a rather solid, warm object. Stepping back, only to trip on her two left feet, she stumbled and fell in a rather disheveled heap on the ground.

"Same knickers as last time, Granger? You really have a liking for the colour orange."

A furious blush covered her cheeks and she rushed to shift her skirt, covering her crotch as she dared glare up at the blond git in the doorway.

What had she been thinking? She shouldn't be apologizing to the laughing wanker. She should be slapping the bloody shit out of him.

Suddenly, so suddenly it took her by surprise, he stopped laughing and became rather uncomfortably tense. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he leaned against the doorframe, averting his gaze, trying to look at something other than the Gryffindor girl on the ground.

"I…I just…"

Tucking her feet under her, she was cautious when standing, making sure that her skirt didn't stick anywhere and that she didn't flash him her knickers again. It wasn't her fault that her mum had bought her a pack of orange knickers and that they were very comfortable.

Staring at the blond, she saw the way his quicksilver gaze darted all over the room, paling with apprehension. She secretly loved the way his eyes changed with his moods; becoming a stormy grey when infuriated, pale silver when nervous or excited, and cold, hard steel when determined. His eyes, in her opinion, were like the clouds; changing with the weather, darkening and lightening depending on his mood.

Right now, he was nervous and she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why.

"Malfoy? What is it?"

"I…" he swallowed thickly, pushing back the anxiety and trying to bring his determination to the surface. "I feel bad about Monday. I know that you've been avoiding me; I stepped over the line Monday and it wasn't right. So, as a truce, I thought it'd be nice if we could…you know, go outside for a walk in the snow."

Her doe eyes widened with stunned disbelief. Draco…_the_ Draco Malfoy, was asking her to go for a stroll in the snow? It made no sense; he hated the snow, absolutely loathed the vile, white substance, and had made that clear last week.

"Why?" The question was out of her mouth before she could even consider the options of asking it or not. She saw the way he flinched, almost as though her question was a form of rejection.

"I just remembered that you said you liked the snow. I figured that, as a way of apologizing, it'd be nice to do something you like. Besides," he added quietly, "I know that you haven't gone out there yet; we've been too busy with schoolwork to relax."

"You…you're actually willing to go outside…in the snow?" She tucked a hair behind her ear, gaping at him. "I thought that you _hated_ the snow!"

"Yeah, well, people also thought I was a Death Eater and had no heart, so…" He shrugged, still looking anywhere but her. "This is more for you, anyways. I said some hurtful things on Monday and nothing can really take those away. I know that we're not the best of friends, hell, we're barely even friends, but you're a good person, that much I know. We've been living together for four months now, we've become well acquainted, and I should know better than to say those things and judge your friends like that."

"Malfoy?"

He glanced slightly at her, watching the expression play across her face, her whiskey eyes swirling with perplexity. "Hm?"

"Are you under the Imperius Curse?"

"WHAT?" His eyes widened and he was baffled at her words.

"You heard me, are you under the Imperius Curse. I suppose you can't really reply, but maybe you could give me some sign, like tap your foot twice or something to let me know you're under the Curse."

It was the only explanation she could find for this sudden kindness from the ex-enemy. She was finding it difficult to believe that he could be like this, act with such kindness and care, willing to go out into the cold, wet snow just because he had said some mean things on Monday.

It was un-Malfoy-like.

"Oh, fuck this," he growled, throwing his hands in the air. "I come in here, willing to apologize, trying to make things better, offering to do something I bloody well hate, and you have the gall to ask me _that_!"

Without waiting for her response, he spun around at the door, marching away from her room. She heard his door slam next door and her teeth latched onto her lower lip.

'_Good job, Hermione, you just pissed him off again. You should get some kind of medal. The Woman Who Pissed Off Draco Malfoy The Most Number of Times.'_

Cursing under her breath, she felt guilt begin to swamp her. He had come here in good terms, ready to apologize, and she had not believed a word he'd said.

It was almost cruel.

Oh, hell, it was definitely cruel. He'd been kind and willing, ready to accept the consequences, and all she could ask him is if someone else was controlling him. Never, could there ever have been a worse insult.

"Darn, Hermione, you really know how to mess things up, don't you?" she muttered.

This had been her one chance of getting him out into the snow, of finding him willing to play in the snow, and she had just destroyed it.

Her plan was deteriorating as fast as her relationship with Ron.

Refusing to let her stupidity destroy another relationship, she rushed from her room and was in front of his door in seconds. She didn't knock, she simply opened the door.

"Holy hell, my eyes!" she screamed, slamming it shut a second later.

Rubbing her eyes, trying to get the image of Draco's naked backside out of her mind, she cursed loudly as he laughed wildly from within his room.

The rat bastard! He heard her coming and had removed his clothes as revenge! That sick, foul, vile, disgusting, evil little cockroach!

"DRACO MALFOY! YOU ARE DISGUSTING!" she shouted, stomping her foot loudly.

"Yes, that much I know," he said a second later, opening the door to show his dressed form. "But it was worth it. You come to apologize?"

The man truly wasted no time. In seconds the scene changed from jovial to serious, relaxed to tense, and she felt his eyes boring into her head. Her teeth found her lower lip and latched on, suckling on it until it hurt.

"I…yes; it wasn't very nice of me to say that to you. I should've known better than to react like that. I…I would like to accept your proposal."

He barely noticed the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks; he was too busy grabbing his coat, having donned a pair of black jeans and an emerald turtleneck while she'd been clawing at her eyes. Drawing the coat over his shoulders, he pulled a scarf off from the dresser and hung it around his neck.

"You're not going outside in that, are you?"

The man was like a woman during menopause; he switched from one emotion to another faster than a hummingbird flitted from flower to flower. Gaping, momentarily shocked, she took a second to shut her mouth and then another to blush wildly as she realized that she must look disheveled and rather silly.

She couldn't go outside in her uniform; it would be rather odd.

Before she darted back to her room, intending on changing and cleaning up, she turned to him.

"On one condition, though."

He picked up a black hat from the dresser, holding it beside the green scarf, and glanced over at her. "You'll only change on one condition? Are you trying to insinuate something that would result in me vomiting for hours on end? Granger, we do not know each other enough to do such a vile thing."

Choking back a crude retort and fighting the urge to punch him, her blush darkened as she stammered for a response. "No! No! I meant that I'll only go out on one condition."

"And that is?"

The man was completely unfazed and very, very odd. He bewildered her and entertained her, going from one extreme to another in seconds.

It was one of the things she actually liked about him. That way, he rarely held actual grudges and had a tendency to stay angry for very little time. Unless she really pissed him off, then she was in for a good few days of his fury.

At least he was in a relatively good mood today, or her rude comment before would have pissed him off for a good week.

"I'll only go out if we go to Hogsmeade." At his inquisitorial gaze, she continued, "Well, you get awfully cold outside, and I thought that it would be nice to have some hot chocolate for afterwards."

He sighed heavily, pulling gloves out of his black and green plaid peacoat's pocket. "Granger, Granger," he tsked, "have you ever used the kitchen in this place?"

"Well…no," she replied, confused and flustered at the same time. "Why?"

"And you've read _Hogwarts: A History_ how many times?"

"More than I can count, but what does it have to do with anything?" She was completely bewildered now and had to be shoved slightly so that he could exit his room and shut the door.

"My dear Granger, it's simple; we don't have to actually _buy_ any food for here. The cupboards and fridge are enchanted. When holding a door handle, you just have to think about what you want and it'll appear in there."

"But what's the fun of that?" she blurted out. "I mean, the whole point of getting hot chocolate is going to the store to buy it and find some marshmallows. It's not as much fun when it just appears in the cupboard."

"Well," Draco said, "it makes things easier."

"Well," she mimicked, "I would rather go to Hogsmeade and buy some. As Heads, were allowed to do just about anything we want, and that includes Hogsmeade trips whenever we see fit. I refuse to be lazy and use magic for hot chocolate when we could make it the Muggle way."

With that said she huffed loudly and made her way back to her room. Wondering curiously just what was up with the brunette, Draco made his way to the stairs and down into the Common Room.

What was so special about the Muggle way? It just involved opening some packet, dumping it into a mug, and pouring hot water into it, didn't it? At least, that's what the new Muggle Studies teacher had said the other day when someone had asked her about Muggle Winter rituals.

Wasn't it just simpler to open the cupboard, will the stuff there, and use magic to turn it into a steaming mug of hot chocolate? What did buying it add to its value?

Adjusting his coat, tugging on his scarf and tucking it under the jacket, he buttoned it up and waited patiently for her to finish getting ready. Pulling out his wand, he performed a water-repellant charm, a heating charm, and an anti-dampness spell. He refused to freeze his ass off while outside and felt that, if he were able to go out there with his clothes warm and toasty, unable to become wet, it would make the experience just a tiny bit more enjoyable.

He looked up at the sound of her footsteps and bit back laughter as he saw what she wore. Her clothes nearly completely matched his; blue jeans, a sweater, and a red and black plaid peacoat. Her scarf matched the coat, and she held a black hat and black gloves.

They would look like some sick and twisted couple in Hogsmeade, which is something he would rather not have happen.

"Go find another jacket," he ordered without a second thought.

"But…why?" she cried, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "I look fine this way. Besides, I've already charmed everything to be water-repellant, heating, and anti-damp."

"I don't care; we are not going outside looking like some weird couple."

At his words, she looked over her outfit to look over his. Slowly, realization dawned on her face, followed swiftly by her laughter.

"Harry will go mental if he sees us like this," she howled a moment later, leaning on the wall for support as Draco glared viciously in her direction.

"I don't care about Potty; I care about the fact that we will look unbelievably stupid together!"

"Well I'm not changing," she said once she managed to regain her breath and stop laughing. "This is my only coat and it's brand new. Besides, the only way to get a new one would be to go down to Hogsmeade."

He cursed angrily, making his way to the door in frustration as she tagged gleefully behind him.

"You're impossible at times, did you know that? I would hate to be the poor bloke who marries you."

"That's all right, Malfoy, I wouldn't want you to be the poor bloke, anyways," she added a moment later, chuckling loudly.

It was odd, watching them banter and talk jovially. Students stopped mid-step, turning on the spot to watch the duo as they made their way through the castle and out of the doors. Many students whispered behind them, curious of their matching clothes, wondering aloud just what was going on between the Gryffindor Princess and Slytherin Prince.

Things, according to every student in the castle, were not right in the world, and they would make sure that Harry Potter knew about this.

* * *

Hermione remained blissfully ignorant of the whispered words; her mind's thoughts fading from everything save for the beauty of the landscape before her. The snow shimmered brightly in the midday light, twinkling merrily, beckoning for her to come forth and jump in it.

Laughing merrily, she rushed out onto the ground, breathing in the cool, crisp air, enjoying the feel of the snow under her boots. It had been so long since she'd been able to just come outside and enjoy the snow.

Spinning around, she gestured for Draco to come with her. "Malfoy! Come help me build a snowman! It'll be fun, I promise!"

He trudged towards her, discontent engraved in his face. "Why would I want to waste my time making something that will just melt?"

She shrugged, picking up some snow and preparing the small ball that would turn into the body. "Because it's fun. Come, come, we'll do it at the same time. You can make the torso."

He pursed his lips in reaction, crossing his arms stiffly across his chest as she began to roll the ball in the snow. "It's silly," he said, eyes hardening at the idea of doing such an uncouth thing.

Her eyes glinted in response, knowing just how to get him to join her on this particular escapade.

"We can enchant it to attack first years."

He bent over and picked up some snow, shaping it and forming it into a snowball, following her movements in collecting the snow.

"You're on."

So they did it the Muggle way, Draco unaware that there was a Wizarding way to build snowmen faster and more effectively. Hermione wanted him to fall in love with the snow, to enjoy it for what it was and to truly appreciate it. It would take some time, that much she knew, but as they rolled the bottom and torso sections, she watched as his eyes began to fade from discontent into concentration.

Her piece was becoming more difficult to move, growing rather heavy, and she pushed and shoved with all of her might, but the damn piece wouldn't move. Cursing it and fighting the urge to kick it, she glanced over to find Draco easily moving his part, which was just a bit smaller than hers.

"Malfoy, don't make it too big; it has to go on top of my piece," she reminded him, trying again to roll her part.

"Granger," he mimicked, "don't make it too big; you won't be able to move it."

She noticed that he was beginning to enjoy himself. It had only taken a good twenty minutes, but he was already beginning to enjoy the feel of snow against his body. It was pleasantly cool and quite versatile. One could morph it into a myriad of shapes, as he had discovered when fiddling with his original, small ball.

Looking up and around at the students, he saw a group of girls fall back into the snow, moving the arms and legs in jumping-jack motions. Curiosity got the better of him and he turned to Hermione, watching with amusement as she fought to move her piece.

"Granger, what are they doing over there?" He gestured to the girls, who were being helped up by a boy, cautious not to step on the area they had just laid.

"Making snow-angels; you fall back in the snow, move your arms and legs, and when you get up, you've made the shape of an angel. It's actually quite relaxing; maybe we can do that next."

"Next?" He gaped, wondering if she was insane. "You mean we're going to do more than just build snowmen? Are you mental?"

"No, but I thought it would be a nice idea to build a snowman and then make a few snow angels," she replied, grunting as she tried to push the snowman, ignorant to the annoyance in Draco's voice.

Leaning back on his ball, he grinned in her direction as she tried to move the ball, reminding himself that, at least, snow angels didn't seem to take too long to make. He would suffer it for a while, if it meant no more tension in the Heads' Tower.

"Do you want some help?"

She looked up and over to him, just in time to watch the ball crumble under his weight, sending him sprawling in the snow. Laughter burst from her mouth, arms wrapping around her waist as she took in the sight of Draco immersed in snow.

Her eyes glowed with mirth as he tried to get up and out of the snow, finding it a bit more difficult that he assumed it would be. For several minutes, he struggled to get out of the pile, only to wind up back in it a second after his attempt.

Hermione was on her knees now, laughing so hard that tears threaten to spill from her eyes. It was hilarious to see the famously uptight Draco Malfoy sprawled in the snow, trying his hardest to get up and failing miserably at it.

She wasn't aware of the way the students around them stared, wasn't aware of how the whispers restarted with a vengeance, spreading across the ground in a buzz as she continued to laugh with joy.

"Oi, Granger, how about some help over here?" Draco finally shouted, frustrated with his inability to stand up.

She barely managed to make her way over to him, laughing as she reached out and took his hand in hers, yanking him up into a standing position. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she let out a few gasping breaths before staring into his eyes.

"Jeez, Malfoy, that was bloody hilarious. You were like some bug on its back, trying so hard to get up, falling down every second. It was brilliant."

"That was not fun," he scoffed, crossing his arms with indignation. He wanted to get angry, wanted to rage at her until he marched away in fury, but he was, surprisingly, in too good a mood to want to argue.

Maybe the snow had some positive effect on the human mind and that was why people seemed to like it so much.

As her laughter started up again, Draco rolled his eyes, finding her reaction a tad too childish for him. So he did the only thing he could think of in order to shut her up.

He shoved her into her ball, which collapsed and sent her landing in a pile of snow.

This time it was his turn to laugh, watching as she struggled in vain to clamber out of the snow. She was right; it was comical to watch someone try to stand while stuck in the snow. Her limbs waved, reminding him of a beetle on its back trying its hardest to return to its proper position. Her hat was askew, covering one eye, and kept returning to that spot after she adjusted it and tried to get up time and time again.

He was the one on his knees, laughing so hard tears came from his eyes, watching as she struggled and cursed to free herself from the snow.

"Malfoy! Get your ferret arse over here and help me out!" she cried, wailing for him to save her from the snowy grave.

He waded his way over to her, like her, ignoring the gazes of nearby students, and heaved her to her feet, still chuckling merrily at her.

"You were right, Granger, the snow is more fun that I thought. Watching you fall into it was a blast."

"Bloody prat," she spat, adjusting her hat over her braided hair. "You could've helped me sooner; I helped you faster than you helped me."

"Oh, quite the bitching, Granger, admit it; it was entertainment value for the both of us." He fixed his scarf, tugging it more securely around his neck as a sudden breeze swept across the grounds.

"I suppose so," she sighed softly before turning to look at the mess. "Well, there goes our snowman. It's too bad, I think it would've been pretty funny to watch a snowman attack first years. I was planning on having him throw carrots at them."

"That's nothing," Draco added a second later. "I wanted him to pretend he was the Dark Lord in disguise and scare a few first years to the point of pissing on themselves. _That_ would be entertainment."

She had to admit but it did sound a bit funny, earning a few giggles from her in response.

"Malfoy, that would be very irresponsible of you," she attempted to reprimand, knowing fully well that her laughter gave way her actual thoughts.

"I knew that you had a bad side, Granger." He chuckled at his words.

"So, how about we make some snow angels and then head off to Hogsmeade?" she asked when their laughter died down and they found themselves staring at the forest nearby.

"I suppose so; I've already fallen into a pile of snow, so nothing could be worse than that. My face is still cold."

"Good." She trudged over to him and, before he could say a word, pushed him, watching as he landed on his back in the snow.

"What the bloody hell was that for, Granger?" he shouted, already getting ready to struggle to stand. He considered his options and decided that, if she didn't help him in two seconds, he yank on her foot and bring her down with him.

"We're making snow angels, you dolt," she sighed. "You lie on your back in the snow, wave your arms like this," she showed him the move, "and move your legs as such," she showed him said move. It resembled some kind of jumping-jack, only he was on his back, in the snow. "When you're done, let me know and I'll help you up. It takes some skill to get up without destroying the angel."

A second later, she fell onto her back a few feet away from him and began waving her arms and legs, eyes shut as she performed the movements.

Unsure of what to do or how to go about this, Draco wondered if this was just some way to get him to do something ridiculous, record it, and find a way to send a copy to every student in the school.

But, there was still that inkling of curiosity, wondering if he could actually make some shape in the snow by moving his arms the way she said for him to.

Still unsure, feeling a little silly at the moment, he began to slowly move his arms and legs.

It was oddly comforting, he realized after a moment. The snow was soft and comfortable against his back, anything but the cold, frozen surface he had once considered it to be. It was like a bed, molding to his body's shape to maximize his comfort.

Closing his eyes, he continued to move his arms and legs, reveling in the feel of the snow under his back. It was so soothing, lying in the cool snow, feeling the gentle breeze move across his face, the feel of the flakes landing softly on his cheeks, tickling his skin.

He had never felt so at peace.

"You're not supposed to fall asleep."

He opened one eye, finding a curly-haired brunette leaning over him, amusement glowing in her amber eyes. Had he ever noticed that she had the loveliest eyes, pure whiskey surrounded by thick, dark lashes? Had he ever noticed the way her lips curled, pleasantly plump and naturally rosy, whenever she was happy?

Closing his eyes, he mentally shook himself, shocked and afraid of what he had just thought. Hermione Granger was plain, he reminded himself. A plain, simple brunette who had a penchant to annoy the hell out of him…and, occasionally, she would make him laugh in a way no other person had ever made him laugh.

But she was not, in any way, beautiful. It was just the sun, the way it formed an ethereal halo around her head, which made her appear more beautiful than she was. She was Hermione Granger, his acquaintance the Holy Virgin Nun of Gryffindor.

Disturbed by his thoughts, he willed himself to think of something else, to focus again on the softness of the snow around him before opening his eyes to gaze at her again.

She looked normal, he noticed. Just plain, normal, and not at all the angel he had just seen. It had been a figment of his imagination, that was all.

"Are you going to lie there all day?" she asked.

"Help me up, Granger, before I decide to curse you," he replied, narrowing his eyes at the way she giggled at him.

"Oh, but I'm already cursed with your presence every day," she added jovially, enjoying this little battle. "All right, don't move anything, just give me your arm and I'm going to pull you up. Okay?"

Lifting his hand, he pretended to sneer at her. "Ew, I have to touch the foul Granger, I think that I'll have to take several baths when we get back."

She grasped his hand, leaning back just enough to get the right amount of leverage.

"So long as I don't have to see your naked arse again," she scolded, taking a half step back. "I have enough nightmare material to last the rest of my life." She literally shuddered in revulsion. "It was so foul; hairy and saggy…absolutely vile."

He glared at her, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. "You wish, Granger. I'll have you know that I have the loveliest arse out there."

"According to who? Pansy? And whose arses is she comparing yours to? Crabbe and Goyle's? All right, hold on tight and don't pull back; it'll make it easier." She wrapped her other hand around his, tightening her hold.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

She saw the twinkle in his eyes, saw the way his lips twitched in that foul smirk, and she knew that he was going to do something very, very mean. She, of course, only noticed this a second before she pulled.

The world went upside down and she fell, face first, into a pile of snow. Cursing and punching wildly, she felt her hand make contact with what had to be a shoulder, listening angrily to wild laughter.

Rolling over and sitting up, she wiped the snow off her face with one hand while reaching out and violently attacking the blond with the other.

"You…you…you prat! You bloody git! That was not nice! Here I was, trying to help you up, and you shove me into the bloody snow! It's cold, you know! It's bloody cold!" she shrieked, hitting any part of the git that she could.

He was laughing too hard to shield himself, letting out an occasional grunt when she hit his side or got him in the ribs. Suddenly, the hitting stopped and she just watched him.

It was odd, before she hadn't noticed the way he laughed. She hadn't realized, up until now, that today was the first time she'd ever heard him laugh like this. It was a deep-bellied laugh, one that tugged her heartstrings and made her smile with him. He was letting down his guard, laughing in a way that he had never laughed before, letting true mirth take over and consume him.

When he opened his eyes, the laughter finally abating, she saw the way they twinkled, not in cunning, but in joy. The tears threatening to overflow only made his eyes glisten that much more.

It was amazing to know that she, his once-sworn enemy, had been able to make him laugh like that. And it was even more amazing that it didn't require someone to have their feelings hurt.

Grinning, she reached over, pushed him back into the snow and clambered to her feet.

"Better hurry, Malfoy, we want to get to Hogsmeade before the stores close."

Wanting to get his revenge, but knowing that they were even, he managed to get to his feet on his own this time, refusing her help in any way or form. If she were to reach out to help him again, he would probably throw her into another pile of snow.

"Can I see your snow angel first?" he asked softly, curiosity in his eyes. "I've never seen what they look like."

Smiling, she turned and gestured to…a big mess.

"Bloody hell! You threw me into my snow angel!!! You ruined my snow angel! You prat! You jerk! Bloody freaking hell!" She stomped the ground and rounded on him, pointing him hard in the chest.

He grinned and shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to work on my aim." He gestured for her to follow him, turning away from her ranting to heads towards Hogsmeade. "Hurry up, Granger, we want to get there before dark."

"I swear, Malfoy, I will get my revenge," she threatened before rushing after him, still oblivious to the looks students gave them.

From a distance, a pair of green eyes watched them, narrowing in perplexity and unhappiness. They remained blissfully ignorant of the probing gaze.

"You know, Granger, I think you got me to like snow."

"Really? I knew that you had some kind of a heart in there."

"Well, I don't really _like_ it. I mean, it's kind of nice but…"

"Oh, don't lie. You like snow and you're just afraid to admit it."

"It's possible."

**Next chapter: hot chocolate in front of the fire, some baking, and, from now on, I will add a recipe at the end of each chapter.**

**Today's recipe is:**

**Sparkly Ginger Cookies**

**Ingredients:**

**¾ cups unsalted butter, softened1 cup granulated sugar**

**1 egg¾ light cane syrup (i.e. Lyle's Golden Syrup)**

**¼ finely chopped crystallized ginger2 cups all-purpose flour**

**1 tbsp ground ginger1 tsp baking soda1 tsp cinnamon**

**¼ tsp each ground cloves and salt½ cup turbinado sugar or other raw sugar (i.e. Lantic or Plantation Raw brands)**

**In large bowl, beat butter with sugar until fluffy; beat in egg and syrup. Stir in crystallized ginger. In separate bowl, whisk together flour, ground ginger, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, and salt; stir into butter mixture in 2 additions. Refrigerate until firm, about 2 hours.**

**Place turbinado sugar in shallow bowl. Roll dough by rounded 1 tsp into balls; roll in sugar to coat. Place, 2 inches apart, on parchment paper-lined baking sheets.**

**Bake in 350 F (180 C) oven until browned on edges, 12 to 14 minutes. Let cool on pans on racks for 2 minutes. **

**Makes roughly 70 cookies.**

**Today's recipe was found in Canadian Living's December 2008 edition. Page 166. **

**Thank you.**

**Concerning reviews:**

**Constructive = welcome. Please feel free to point out errors so that I may fix them.**

**Flames = used to heat up oven and bake the cookies.**

**Adoration = used to inflate my already overly inflated ego.**

**Thanks for reading. **


	6. A Rare Act of Kindness

**Sorry for the wait, I had to complete an essay for my Developmental Psychopathology class and it was a bitch, trust me. I also got sick, which isn't fun. But, here it is. The 5th chapter. **

**By the way, thank you gives for all of the reviews. Really, I have never received such an amazingly positive response before and it has left me flabbergasted and astounded. I love every single one of you and this is why I am posting the new chapter. This is for you guys (well...all of them are...but, you know...)  
**

**Note: spoiler alert in chapter if you have not read DH. I suggest that you skip about half of the first section (before section break). **

**Chapter 5**

**A Rare Act of Kindness**

Ginny sat by the Common Room fireplace, editing her final essay, completely at peace with the world. Ron had stopped ranting of late; Harry had finally shouted for him, demanding that Ron shut his mouth. It was true; everyone was sick and tired of Ron's childish ranting and ravings and Harry's honest exclamation had earned a wave of other remarks from the fellow Gryffindors.

Ron, embarrassed, had been hiding in his room since then and Harry had gone off to the Owlery to let off some steam. Ginny was left blissfully alone to relax, focus on her homework, and finalize her Christmas list.

It was odd, the more she thought about Hermione and her decision, the more she realized that she had no right to influence the woman in any way. Hermione was twenty, two years older than Ginny, nearly one year older than Harry, and she had every right to do as she pleased.

While Ginny didn't exactly support Hermione's decision to remain behind – mostly because she feared it might cause a rift between her and the Weasley family – she knew that nothing she could do or say would change the brunette's mind. Hermione was even more stubborn than Ron when it came to those things.

"Oh bugger, I just can't get this right."

Hearing the muttering voice of dismay, Ginny turned her head to find little Dennis Creevey hunched over an essay marked by dozens of scribbles and scratches.

Her eyes softened at the way the youngest, and now only, Creevey child looked despaired. She knew that he had found it difficult coming back to the school, and she had watched as Harry had tried his hardest to cheer up the boy. But nothing anyone said could remove the memory of his brother's body.

Sometimes, she and Harry would find him sobbing and the two of them would go over and hug him, telling him that his brother was happier where he was. He would be able to see all of the cool old wizards and he was now with Dumbledore. Harry would jokingly add that Colin would now be able to play all the pranks he wanted on Snape with Fred and they wouldn't have to worry about detention.

Usually it cheered him up, but Ginny still worried. It was his first Christmas at Hogwarts since his brother's death and she couldn't help but wonder if he would be able to last.

Two years wasn't enough time to mourn and she, of all people, understood that. To this day she still hurt for Fred, still cried when thinking of her older brother and his smiling face.

Christmas was difficult on the emotions; it could be an amazing and beautiful time of year but it could also cause the most hurt and pain. You wanted to spend it with your family and loved ones, but it was unbearably difficult to do so when the family or loved ones were dead.

Leaning over, she smiled gently at Dennis and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She had taken up the role of older sister to the young boy, trying her hardest to make him smile and believe that life was just a little bit better.

"What's the matter, Dennis?"

"It's this Astronomy essay. I just can't seem to get anything right," he sighed loudly, desperation thickening his voice.

"What's it on?"

"The stars and constellations that are part of Orion's belt. I have to find the names of the people who found them, their location, and what else the stars make up. I just…I can't seem to write it properly." He let his quill fall before covering his face in his hands. "I can't do anything right."

"Oh Dennis," she said quietly, her eyes softening, "you are able to do things right. Here, let me look at it, I'll see if I can help you." Without waiting for a response, she picked up the scratch-riddled paper.

Looking over it, she frowned slightly and, picking up the quill, underlined certain parts that either made no sense or needed just a bit of correcting. It didn't take long and, after a few minutes, she finished reading the 2 foot parchment paper, placing it back on the table.

"Dennis, this work is wonderful," she stated proudly. "You have a few spelling and grammar issues, and a few facts are jumbled, but you're being too hard on yourself."

"You're just saying that," he mumbled, face still in his hands.

Smiling, she ruffled his mousy hair and picked up the parchment anew, reading out a few lines before saying, "You know what you're talking about, you understand everything, you just need to fix a few little things. Here, let me show you…"

He slowly lifted his head, looking in her direction, finding sincere kindness in her face. He searched her eyes, trying to find the one thing that would make him deny her offer.

He didn't see any pity.

Heart swelling in his chest, tears fading, he smiled gently. "All right…show me how to fix it. Please."

Harry came into the Common Room to this sight, the image of Ginny and Dennis hunched over the boy's homework, Ginny teaching the boy with a kindness that reminded Harry of a mother teaching a child. He saw the way Dennis's eyes glowed as she praised him, watched as the boy literally swelled with joy as she said that his work was amazing for a fourth year.

Harry burst into a grin, finding that this scene removed all melancholy and anxiety that had been in his heart just moments ago. Making his way over, he plopped down beside Ginny, wrapping an arm over her shoulders.

"Harry! Harry!" Dennis cried gleefully. "Ginny says that my work is better than yours was in fourth year. Is that true?"

Laughing, Harry glanced briefly at the younger boy's work before grinning sheepishly. "Yeah…it's true. Until Hermione looked at our work, Ron and I were writing at Troll levels."

"No! Not the great Harry Potter!" Dennis cried, aghast.

"I've never been very good at school," Harry added on a chuckle, unconsciously pulling Ginny closer to his side. He loved the feel of her against his body, her small form and heat soothing him in a way nothing else ever did.

"Wow! I have to tell my friends this!" He hurriedly gathered his parchment, ink, and quill, grinning broadly. "Thank you Ginny." Still grinning, the young boy rushed off to the Dormitories, intent on rewriting his essay and telling everyone that the great Harry Potter wasn't very good at school.

"That was kind of you. Of course, you could have stuck to the truth." He arched a brow at Ginny's words, prompting her to continue. "You would've earned Dreadfuls without Hermione, Ron was writing at Troll levels."

Placing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth, Harry pulled her even closer to his body. "I know, but he looked so happy to hear that he writes better than me."

Burrowing into his side, Ginny looked up, watching the emotions play across her boyfriend's face. She watched as slowly, the relaxed expression faded into tension, growing tighter with anxiety as his brow furrowed.

Frowning, she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know…" he muttered after a moment's hesitation. "Things have gotten so weird in the past week."

"I know," she sighed. "Ron going mental, Malfoy and Hermione acting civilized to each other, Hermione staying at Hogwarts…it just feels like the world is beginning to turn upside down."

"That's not even the beginning of things." Looking down at his girlfriend, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, his eyes hardened. "I just saw the oddest thing."

"What was it?" She almost feared his answer, recognizing the look of perplexed fury in his eyes.

"Hermione and Malfoy…trying to build snowmen and playing in the snow. He shoved her into the snow, and she shoved him back…and they were…laughing." He said the last word like it was some curse, some foul thing not to spoken aloud for fear of eternal damnation and death.

"No!" Ginny whispered sharply, her eyes darting around the room, hoping that no one had heard what Harry had just said. "Please…tell me they were being mean and laughing because it was funny to be mean to each other…" She knew it made no sense, knew that she was stammering and muttering random words, but, in the end, Harry understood what she meant.

"No. They were actually laughing…with each other. They were _playing_ in the snow!" he hissed. "It makes no sense."

"Maybe…maybe it's part of her plan. You know, to give Malfoy the best Christmas? That's probably it; she's probably pretending to be laughing, making him happy and giving him the best Christmas. That's all." Once more, she was trying to convince herself more than Harry.

"I suppose that makes sense…" Harry had always been a bit more gullible than Ginny. "I mean, so long as they don't start…you know…"

Frowning at her boyfriend, she shook her head violently. "I don't think they'd ever be more than acquaintances. I bet, once this holiday is over, they'll go back to arguing and hating each other."

"I hope so Gin," he said softly, closing his eyes, resting his chin on the top of her head. Hugging her close, he sighed heavily. "We can't tell Ron, okay?"

"Can't tell Ron what?"

Their heads spun at the sound of a certain redhead's voice, finding Ron standing at the end of the couch, looking rather glum.

"What?" Harry's heart pounded in fear, terrified at the idea that Ron had heard their whole conversation. He didn't know how Ron would react to the idea that Hermione and Draco had been playing happily in the snow.

"You can't tell me what?" Ron repeated, sitting down gingerly on the end of the couch.

"Oh, well, Ron, if it involves your Christmas present, then obviously we shouldn't tell you," Ginny scolded, laughter in her eyes. "You know better than to try and figure out what we're getting you for Christmas."

Ron's eyes lit up just a bit. "Really? Well, what is it, Harry? What're you guys getting me?"

"That would just ruin the surprise, wouldn't it, mate? Besides, we can't tell you anything about the Christmas surprise."

Ginny elbowed Harry in the side, signaling for him to shut his mouth before he wound up making Ron's Christmas worse.

It was too late, Ron's eyes lit up with the idea of a special Christmas surprise. Images of Hermione coming to him, dressed in a beautiful white gown, surprising him for Christmas, filled his mind. His mood lifted considerably along with his spirits, and Ginny bit back a sigh.

'_Damn it, Harry, you just had to say that, didn't you?'_

* * *

"Malfoy, we should really hurry up; it's starting to get dark out."

Draco looked over at Hermione from where they sat in the Three Broomsticks. It was blissfully emptier than it was on weekends, void of most students, a perfect place to relax and warm up after being out in the cold weather.

Taking the final swig of his Butterbeer, Draco nodded slowly. "I suppose we should start heading back now. I'm awfully hungry and want to make it in time for supper."

Standing up, wrapping her scarf snugly around her neck, she glared at him. "We also have to buy the ingredients before heading back."

Narrowing his eyes at her words, he tugged his hat on his head, wondering if she had just said what he thought she'd said.

"Ingredients? I thought all we needed for hot chocolate was milk and that powdered stuff."

"Oh yes, that's true. But I also want to do some baking tomorrow, so I need a few ingredients." She hopped towards the door, ignoring his sudden loud protests as he rushed after her.

"What do you mean, baking?" he demanded the second they stepped out of the Three Broomsticks.

"I mean baking; the Muggle form of making sweets, such as cookies and pastries. Seeing as it is Christmas time, I wanted to bake some Christmas cookies."

"I…wh…What?" he cried, rushing after her as she marched towards the nearest baking store, Flatterbly's Baking Goods.

She had broken it to him and was now avoiding any confrontation he wanted. She knew that he would be rather flabbergasted at the idea of her baking goods in their Tower. He was probably aghast, wondering how Muggles baked and why she even decided to make Christmas cookies.

This, of course, amused her to no one, since he seemed annoyed and at a loss for words.

"I know this lovely recipe for Cardamom-Spiced Cookies, it's simply delightful. It's kind of Christmas like, but I could always use dyes or put sprinkles on the chocolate." She spoke more to herself than the blond following her. "Do you like cookies?" she asked suddenly, spinning around, nearly sending him careening into her.

"Granger, you're making no bloody sense! There is no way in hell that you are making cookies in our Common Room! No bloody way! There is just something wrong with that!" he cried, stomping his foot in determination. "I forbid you to bake your…Christmas cookies."

She shrugged, knowing that, in the end, he really couldn't stop her. She would find a way to do her baking and assimilate him. Christmas cookies, cakes, pies, and tarts were essential to the Christmas spirit. The smell of them baking filled the air with spices, sugar, and sweetness, making the entrance to the Tower a pleasant one. She also loved the process of baking; it was a secret passion of hers. She found it relaxing after a long day of stress and hard work.

"It'll just be a mess," he argued to no one in particular as they entered the store. "There will be flour everywhere, and you'll get chocolate all over the walls and sprinkles…I forbid sprinkles of any kind coming into the Heads' Tower! Do you hear me?"

"Unfortunately, I do hear you, Malfoy, and it is getting rather irritating." She picked up a basket by the door, smiling at the elderly gentleman at the counter. "Do you have eggs and salt here?" she inquired, ignoring Draco's protests.

"Yes, we have everything you need for baking, from eggs to lizards' eyes," the man stated proudly.

"Oh well…I won't be needing the lizards' eyes, but thank you sir," she replied, turning away to roam the aisles. "Now, Malfoy, can you help me by finding some bittersweet chocolate?"

"Granger! Have you not heard a word I said? I said that I refuse to let you bake anything in our kitchen!" he shouted; face mottling red as his frustration increased.

Sighing heavily, she turned around and faced him, watching the way his eyes flashed with irritation, the way his hands clenched in chained fury, and she couldn't help but find this sight rather comical.

"Why do you protest so much? There is absolutely nothing wrong with baking, Malfoy. Besides, it's nice to have some freshly baked goods."

"That's what House Elves are for," he retorted furiously. "They bake all the stuff; we sit down and don't have to deal with the clamor and mess."

Eyes narrowing, she glared at him suspiciously. "Is it really the mess that you don't like, Malfoy? Or is there something else behind this sudden hatred for baked goods? I've seen you eat plenty of them in the Great Hall, what's so different with actually baking them and then eating them?"

"You…you don't bake stuff…" His eyes slowly glazed over, body tensing as he began to mutter incoherently.

He remembered what happened every time his mother had tried to bake when he was a child. Remembered how his father despised the way the woman loved prancing in the kitchen, humming and cooking up delicious foods. He recalled, vividly, the way his father would scream at his mother until she sobbed, the way he would hit the woman, telling her that it was undignified and uncouth.

Heart hammering in his chest, Draco found it suddenly difficult to breathe. The stuff in the store, the things surrounding him, the smells, the sights, everything reminded him of why he hated baking so much. Everything became a blur, masked by the fog of the past as he fought for some semblance of sanity. He couldn't...it was so difficult to stave off the memories, to push back the past to where it belonged, when it hurt so much. This was why...this pain, this senseless cruelty he had experienced and witnessed, this unearthing of foul memories...this was...

Why he hated Christmas so much…

Mouth dry, body shaking more with fear than fury, he tore his gaze from Hermione's.

"I'm heading back," he muttered before rushing out of the door, needing to be as far from that place as possible. He couldn't…he just couldn't stand it…

He ran as though Dementors raced after him, sprinting back towards Hogwarts as he tried to ease his racing thoughts and memories. He could still hear her screams, the way she shouted for Draco to get out of the kitchen, to not watch as his father beat his mother mercilessly.

How he hated Christmas…he absolutely abhorred Christmas.

Stopping, back on Hogwarts grounds, he clenched his hands at his sides, panting heavily. His face was wet, body trembling violently as he tried to push back the memories.

Falling to his knees, he pushed back the increasing urge to vomit and scream, trying to ease his knotted stomach and breathe slow and deeply. The snow was painfully cold against his knees, dimly reminding his numbing brain that the effects of the charms had long worn-off. He could care less; he hurt too much to think of anything but the mental turmoil he was experiencing.

He hated Christmas…Christmas was a horrible time of year. He hated how, every Christmas, his mother would look at him in terror. He hated how cold his father was, announcing that he had bought Draco the most expensive items when all the little boy had wanted as a teddy bear. He hated the way the House Elves cowered even more so, afraid that the food wasn't worthy, afraid of the fear the holiday caused in the Malfoy household.

Wiping furiously at his tears, he clambered to his feet and trudged through the snow, stomping across Hermione's ruined snow angel. He didn't even see that his own had remained intact, a beautiful form imprinted in the snow.

Draco Malfoy hated Christmas and he was determined to keep it that way.

* * *

"Ouch."

The box fell into the basket, followed by a droplet of red. Hermione shoved her finger into her mouth, suckling on the cut flesh as she searched the shelves for powdered chocolate.

She had decided that Draco had never experienced real baking before. He had probably only heard horror stories, heard of the messes, of the way the kitchen would become a disaster zone and cause heart attacks for the clean-freaks.

Well, he had never seen Hermione Granger bake before.

Determined to continue her plan, she stayed in the store, searching the shelves for her ingredients while pushing aside the nagging voice at the back of her mind.

She felt bad…Draco had truly been determined not to let her bake. He had looked frustrated, so unhappy and desperate for her to stay as far from this store as possible.

He had looked terrified.

Pausing in her search, she swallowed thickly as her heart tugged viciously.

What could have happened to him that made him terrified of baking?

Looking down at the little plastic box of cardamom, able to see the side that had cut her finger, she closed her eyes, curious as to why Draco abhorred the idea so much.

It was sad…so very sad.

That was why she was determined to make him happy. She clenched her hand into a fist, opening her eyes and continuing with her shopping. She had to show him that there was beauty at this time of year. Hadn't she done so with the snow?

She would show him how amazing Christmas was, no matter how much he argued or fought back.

Christmas was not as bad as it seemed.

* * *

The Common Room was empty when she arrived back. She assumed that he was probably still down at the Great Hall, eating and sulking, complaining to Zabini about nosy and stubborn brunettes.

After removing her outdoor gear, she made her way to the kitchen. Gingerly, she placed the bags on the counter lining the right side of the Common Room. Instead of the various desks and tables in this section of the Common Room, it had been replaced with a kitchen, fridge, oven, microwave and cutlery included. She wasn't sure how everything ran, seeing as Hogwarts didn't really run on electricity, but she assumed that it was some form of magic. She had to assume; this was one of the few things Hogwarts: A History neglected on informing the readers of.

Placing the products in the cupboards and fridge, she pulled out two mugs and a kettle. Pouring water into the kettle, she placed it on the stove and emptied two packets of the hot chocolate powder into the mugs.

All the while, she thought of his reaction to baking.

It was odd. She had never seen someone so determined and against baking. Her family used to have to beg to get her to bake, while Harry and Ron had never been able to taste her goodies.

Waiting for the water to boil, she collected the bags and placed them into the recycling bins located under the sink and washed her hands.

She couldn't understand why Draco hated baking so much. Maybe…maybe he knew someone who died in a freak baking accident around Christmas time? Maybe the person had set the house on fire and had died, unable to get out?

It was a little far-fetched, but weird things happened all of the time. Hell, here she was, standing in Hogwarts, able to do magic when she, as a child, had thought magic was a myth.

Anything was possible. So Draco must have some kind of reason for this hatred of baking. She would just have to find out and fix it. It was, after all, part of her plan.

The kettle whistled sharply, pulling her from her thoughts. Pouring it out, she stirred the drinks, adding some milk, before opening the cupboards. She pulled out two little packets, one labeled "cinnamon," the other "cocoa powder."

Gingerly, she mixed them together in a bag and placed it aside. Placing back the boxes, she then withdrew a large bag of miniature marshmallows.

This had been her favourite drink as a child. Hot chocolate with marshmallows and sprinkled cocoa and cinnamon.

Maybe it would help ease Draco's mind and get him to relax a bit after his outburst.

Smiling to no one in particular, she sprinkled the marshmallows in the drinks, before adding the cinnamon-cocoa mixture. Pleased with the results, she carried both mugs over to the coffee table in front of the fireplace. Waving her wand, everything in the kitchen was clean, as though nothing had been touched.

Sitting in front of the fireplace, she pulled out a book from under the table, a little romance novel she enjoyed reading from time to time, and reclined on the sofa.

Sipping her hot chocolate, she decided that she would wait for him. It was the only thing she could really do for now. She wanted to see his face when he took his first sip of the hot chocolate, to watch as he enjoyed his drink and succumbed to this little bit of heaven.

Then, when he was relaxed, she would carefully ask him about his fear of baking. She would catch him off guard and get him to answer all of her questions.

She would be able to handle anything he told her. She knew that she could handle anything; she was Hermione Granger, star pupil.

So, opening her book, she waited.

* * *

A good prowl around the castle had done some good. He'd been able to snap at snogging couples, curse at sneaking students, and do some good shouting at Peeves. It had all helped unleash some of his frustration while keeping his mind occupied.

After a good hour, he had managed to completely shove away any and all thoughts or memories. He'd been able to stop the trembling and return his breathing to normal, slow down his heartbeat and get his body to, finally, relax. It was a difficult process and sometimes took days, but, he was always successful in easing his thoughts.

He was Draco Malfoy after all.

He hated letting his guard down, hated how sometimes the memories became almost too much to bear. It hurt, it hurt him inside and out, to remember such foul times. Each time, every time a memory latched onto his heart and began to suck him dry, he had to repeatedly remind himself that his father was dead.

Dead…Lucius is dead…gone…he can't hurt anyone anymore.

Rubbing his face with his hands, he felt exhausted after the mental turmoil he had just experienced.

Sighing heavily, he knew that he would have to apologize to Hermione for his sudden outburst. Then, knowing the little Gryffindor girl, he would have to find some way to avoid her nosy questions about his outburst. She would demand answers, which in turn would frustrate him, and they would just wind up arguing again and in the same situation they were currently in.

Somehow, something told him that he might have to explain why he acted the way he did. He would have to make up something that was convincing, seemed believable but also wouldn't cause her to ask any more questions.

_Freak Baking Accident Kills Family_.

He bit back some laughter as the newspaper title popped in his mind. Wouldn't that just be silly, having some story where his best friend's entire family had been killed in a freak baking accident around Christmas time?

Hell, just to sugar coat it, he could say that he was in the house at the time and his friend's father had saved him, shielding him from the fire.

No…Granger would never believe that, would she?

Then again…she probably wouldn't believe the true story, either. He knew that the school probably wouldn't; they still refused to believe that Draco was reformed. Hell, many students still had a hard time believing he wasn't a Death Eater, no matter how many times he flashed his arm in a fit of rage.

People just didn't believe him, it was simple. After having spent his first six years at Hogwarts making life a living hell for just about everyone, it was understandable that the student population found it difficult to believe that Draco Malfoy wasn't really the prat he had been made out to be.

Wandering around the school for a bit more, avoided going back to the Heads' Tower; he wasn't ready to face Hermione just yet. She'd spent the afternoon showing him the joys of snow, offering to pay for and make hot chocolate, and he had shouted at her, refusing to let her bake.

It was silly, really, when he thought of it from an outsider's perspective. He assumed that Hermione was assuming he hated it because of the mess. It had, obviously, been his primary concern. He didn't really care for messes, but they were tolerable.

Baking, on the other hand, he just couldn't go through with. The sight of someone in the kitchen, baking, brought back horrible memories that he just wanted to forget.

Stopping at a window, he pressed his forehead to the glass, looking down at the grounds as they were blanketed in darkness. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply as he fought for some semblance of sanity.

Things had become far too weird this past week. Christmas had usually caused him to become nastier than normal, shorter in temper and more prone to having bouts of anger and frustration. But, things had been weirder than normal. Hermione was acting odd, staying behind for Christmas when he thought she'd be spending it with the Weasel and his pack. Potty and Weasel were furious and making it known, resulting in Weasel being paralyzed and silence.

Draco chuckled quietly at that memory.

When he'd passed the Weaslette earlier, she had given him the oddest of looks. It was almost as though she were trying to read his mind.

Even Loony Lovegood was acting odd, staring at him with an even-more-glazed-than-usual expression.

What the hell was wrong with everyone?

Rubbing his face with his hands, he withdrew from the window, continuing with his walk as he made his way around the castle. He was barely aware of his destination, too focused on why the entire student population had developed some oddity bug, until he arrived at a particular entrance.

"Password?"

Lifting his head, he found himself face-to-face with Aphrodite.

"I suppose I have no choice; I have nowhere else to go," he muttered quietly, unaware that the statue heard every word.

"The girl's been in here for a while," she said, thinking that it might help ease his tension. "Had a whole pile of bags and looked real preoccupied. You two didn't have a fight, did you? I know lover squabbles can be a bit tough, but I'll sure you'll be fine."

His cheeks flushed red with annoyance and his eyes flashed. "We're not a couple. We argued, yes, but we are definitely not a couple in any way or form."

"That's what they all say," she snorted. "Password."

"Flittertiggibittet."

She moved aside, smiling at him while he mumbled about finding some normal passwords.

Opening the door, his gaze immediately went to the kitchen, which he found blissfully void of all life or signs of use.

Sighing with relief, he closed his eyes briefly as the door slid shut behind him. As soon as it creaked close, he opened his eyes and his gaze fell on the fireplace.

On the coffee table were two mugs, one evidently empty, and the other still filled to the brim. He could see some odd, white substance on the top of the full one.

Frowning, he slowly made his way over to the table, finding the mug filled with a dark, chocolate substance covered in what appeared to be melted marshmallows. Lifting the mug, he found it cool to the touch, but when he sniffed it, a delightful aroma filled his senses.

Looking curiously around, it took his a moment to realize that there was a definite body lying on the couch. Curly hair askew, face peaceful while deeply asleep; Hermione Granger lay on the couch, having fallen asleep half an hour ago.

He looked to the mug, back to Hermione, and to the mug again before the realization slowly hit him.

'_She stayed and waited for me. She actually made me hot chocolate, stayed up and waited for me…'_

He couldn't believe it, could not believe what he was seeing. No one had ever done something so kind for him. Nobody had ever dared make him something sweet and waited up for him to come back. The only things he had ever experienced was coldness and cruelty, neglect and hate, and this act...this simple sight of seeing her, asleep on the couch, made his heart twist in a way he had never felt it twist before.

It was unbelievable. She had actually waited for him…and had fallen asleep all the while. But, she had refused to go to bed. She refused to leave the area and wanted to wait as long as she could for him to come back.

Some little part of him told him that, if he had only come back in the morning, she would still be on the couch.

Guilt welled up inside of him. He had yelled at her, screamed at her in public over something as stupid as not wanting her to bake. He did have some deep-seated reasons behind it, but he could have done it in a more formal fashion.

He shouldn't have yelled at her.

And yet, she'd still thought of him and had made him some hot chocolate.

Pulling out his wand, he pointed it to the mug and murmured a spell. The beverage heated up instantly and he took his first sip.

Soothing deliciousness flooded his system, swamping him with sweet flavours and delightful aromas. It was thick and creamy, but easy to drink and simply delightful. Immediately, he found himself taking a second, then a third, and finally a fourth sip.

Throwing off his jacket, tossing is aside to soon be joined by his scarf and hat, he sat back in the nearest armchair and reveled in the flavours assaulting his system.

It was heavenly. He had never had something so delicious in his life.

Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back, allowing the taste of the hot chocolate swamp his system, relaxing him, soothing his senses, and bringing him to a sense of peace he had only achieved while making a snow angel.

Soon enough, however, it was empty and he yearned for more. Biting back the urge to pout and wake up Hermione to make some more, he did something he had never done before.

Leaning forward, he took the blanket on the back of the sofa and gently draped it over Hermione's sleeping form. Unaware, he smiled gently at her, silently thanking her for her kindness.

Getting comfortable, he sat back in the armchair, picked up Hermione's discarded novel and, curious, began to read.

So they stayed like that for some time until, eventually, sleep overcame the man and, together, they slept in front of the fireplace.

**Chapter 5 complete!**

**Today's recipe:**

**Cranberry Sauce!**

**Ingredients:**

**2 ½ cups cranberries (fresh or frozen)**

**¾ cup granulated sugar**

**¾ cup water**

**Combine cranberries with sugar and water in a large saucepan.**

**Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 5 to 10 minutes until cranberries pop and sauce starts to thicken.**

**Pour sauce into a bowl and chill. Serve cold. Sauce will thicken on cooling.**

**Today's recipe was brought to you by Reader's Digest, December 2008 edition, page 164. **

**Review overview:**

**Constructive criticism = very much welcome. Any mistakes (grammatical/spelling/et cetera) you find please identify them in detail in your review. Thank you.**

**Flames = used to heat up the water for hot chocolate**

**Adoration = is awesome. I love being adored. It makes me feel so modest.**

**Thank you!**


	7. Just Acquaintances

**Sorry for the wait. I've been busy with school work and work-work (I worked Thurs, Fri, Sat, Sun, and Mon) and I was also at my boyfriend's house for a few days (and he doesn't let me use the comp. jerk). I've also been sick for the past week with this nasty virus (a really shitty cold) so I've been trying my hardest to update.  
So, here it is. Chapter 6! Chapter 7 will be posted later on today. Because I love you guys that much. **

**Also, because someone asked in a review concerning the dates, today would be 'round the 7th of December. I assume that the students would leave the second week and be back by the second week of January. I tried finding exact time and dates of their Christmas vacation, but I couldn't find them anywhere. So I just assumed and guessed. Bleh. I hate doing that, lol. **

**Also, a massive thanks goes out to mkhtl, who has kindly mentioned all of my mistakes in every chapter. I love you for that and I have corrected them. Thank you so much! If I could, I would bake you a billion Christmas treats with love.  
**

**Chapter 6**

**Just Acquaintances**

The fire was still crackling merrily, tended to by House Elves during the night, when her eyes opened. Groggily, she slowly blinked before lifting her hands and wearily rubbing her eyes.

Trying to discern her surroundings, Hermione managed to partially sit up and stretch lazily, pulling out all of the kinks in her back. She was unusually sore for having slept in her bed the whole night.

Rubbing her shoulder, she continued to blink away the fog of sleep and was surprised to find herself in the Common Room.

The blanket fell from her chest to puddle in her lap as she fully sat up, managing to completely escape from the haze of sleep. Rubbing her eyes again, she stared around the Common Room.

'_How did I…?'_

That was right…she must have fallen asleep waiting for Draco last night. The last thing she clearly remembered was rereading the same sentence five times because she'd been too exhausted to understand it.

Looking down, finally noticing the blanket covering half of her body, she frowned.

'_How did this…? I didn't have a blanket last night…did I? Did it fall on me?'_

Her explanation made no sense; if it had fallen on her then why was it placed perfectly on top of her body, covering her from her toes to her shoulders? Or at least, it had been covering her shoulders until she'd decided to sit up.

'_Did somebody place it here?'_

Slowly, confusion began to cloud her senses. Her eyes looked around the room, finding the two mugs on the table but her book nowhere in sight.

'_Where's my book? Did it fall somewhere?'_

Leaning over the edge of the couch, she looked under the sofa, finding nothing but mothballs – '_I should clean there some time soon,'_- before looking under the table.

Frowning, she found herself eyeing a pair of feet clad in white socks. Her eyes slowly made their way up a pair of long, lean legs until they reached a flat torso covered by a green turtleneck.

Noting the slide broadness of the chest in her search, she continued to lift her gaze until her mouth fell open.

'_What the bloody hell is Malfoy doing sleeping in the Common Room?'_

Gawking in surprise, her mind ran through thousands of scenarios depicting just why Draco was sleeping in the armchair instead of his bed. He must have come back drunk; that was the likeliest of all scenarios. He must have gotten drunk at the Hog's Head, stumbled back in, and passed out on the armchair.

Her nose twitched; he didn't smell like alcohol of any kind, which meant that her hypothesis was not plausible in any way or form. If he had indeed been drunk, he would still reek of alcohol.

But…why?

Looking around, searching for some kind of answer, her eyes fell on the blanket a second time.

'_Did he…? No. No bloody way…no way it was…'_

All thought processes stopped as she looked at the mugs on the coffee table. The two _empty_ mugs.

That was right; she'd made a mug of hot chocolate for him last night but, since she'd fallen asleep before he'd gotten back, no one had drunk it. It had been filled to the brim.

It took her some time, quite some time actually, seeing as Hermione's brain never properly functioned in the morning and this was the unlikeliest of all scenarios, but she finally acknowledged that, perhaps, Draco had willingly slept in the armchair last night.

'_Bloody unbelievable!!!'_

It made no sense. Why would he come back, cover her in a blanket, drink his hot chocolate and then go to sleep the armchair? (She assumed that he had given her the blanket, it only made sense as to why it had been perfectly covering her.)

Why didn't he just go to his bed and leave her alone? Why didn't he just ignore her like always and sulk off to his room? Why hadn't he pulled some cruel prank on her?

Scratching her head, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find some reason behind his unreasonable actions.

'_We're just acquaintances! We still harbor hateful feelings for each other, even though we played and laughed yesterday. We are not best friends. Only best friends and family come in and give someone a blanket when they sleep. People only sleep with the people they love…'_

Suddenly she began choking and coughing violently, fighting for air a millisecond after the unthinkable thought passed through her mind.

Blinking back tears, hitting her chest several times to clear her throat and gain air, she let out a very crude, unladylike grunt.

Draco Malfoy and love…those two things in the same sentence were as unlikely as Ron and Harry in an intimate relationship.

Heaving, she rubbed her face, pushing away that foul, vile, crude…cockroach of a thought from her mind.

But…still…her eyes looked at his sleeping form and she couldn't help but smile. He looked so…peaceful. His features had softened over time, not as sharp or as stressed as they used to be; gentler and smoother, masculine and soft at the same time. Now, as he slept, she couldn't help but notice that he had, somehow, become somewhat attractive in the past years.

There was a faint scar on his left cheek, barely discernable, caused from a fight with a Death Eater the year after the war. Things had become heated and the two had ended up using fists instead of magic.

Suddenly embarrassed, she turned her gaze away from him, forgetting about his attractiveness, using the faint morning light and the glow of the fireplace as an excuse. He was still a prat, still annoying at times, and he was definitely only an acquaintance.

Unfolding herself and climbing off the sofa, she gingerly folded the blanket and placed it back.

Her actions suddenly stopped as realization completely hit her.

Draco Malfoy had felt bad for what he did yesterday…

She recalled their argument, the way he shouted for her not to bake, the way he had stormed off, leaving her alone in Hogsmeade in the growing dark. She had made him some hot chocolate anyway, keeping her promises like always.

He had probably come back, seen the hot chocolate, and felt guilty. He had probably regretted the way he'd acted, feeling horrible for how he'd treated her.

In actuality, he really hadn't treated her badly at all; he'd just refused to let her bake in a very…passionate manner.

The smile returned; her eyes softening as a strange warm sensation spread through her body.

He had drunk the hot chocolate, given her a blanket, and had slept in the armchair, probably waiting for her to wake up. She was certain, now, that if she were to look, she would find her discarded novel in his lap or at his side.

Wanting to hug the nearest object to her body, Hermione did a little skip as she collected the mugs, her day beginning on the right foot.

He could be a prat, but he was so kind at times.

But they were only acquaintances.

* * *

A glance at the clock had her rushing to shower and dress; she had to supervise the final trip to Hogsmeade in half an hour. This meant that she had to find some way to wake up Draco without causing a fight or a very uncomfortable situation. She was not looking forward to waking him up.

Tying her hair back into a ponytail, looking over her appearance one final time – a red turtleneck and a simple pair of faded blue jeans – she nodded before heading out, finding herself acceptable for the world. It's not that she was vain; she just preferred looking acceptable as opposed to unacceptable. The past week, for example, she'd been looking rather frumpy and disheveled. It felt good to look good.

She jogged down the steps, having grabbed a pair of boots on the way, and stopped short at the bottom of the stairs.

Well, she wasn't going to have to wake up Draco anymore.

He stood in the kitchen, rinsing out the mugs and placing them aside, dressed and clean, as though he hadn't slept on an armchair the entire night. Minor bouts of jealousy tore through her; she had slept on the sofa and she'd been forced to tie back her hair, while his looked pretty and clean.

How the hell had he managed to shower and dress without alerting her of his presence? That's what she was wondering.

Then again, she'd been loudly cursing as she tried to brush her hair, so maybe she just hadn't noticed the shower running.

Or he hadn't taken a shower…

Eeww…

Clearing her throat, she plopped on the bottom seat to tug on her boots.

"Malfoy, good morning, you realize that we have less than…ten minutes to be in the Great Hall to supervise the last Hogsmeade trip, right?"

She had to keep things light, not mention her thoughts about last night, and try to keep any reminders of their argument and, what may possibly be, an embarrassing act of kindness out of their minds. Keep things light, easy, and simple, far from the complicated sensation of warmth she'd felt that morning.

"Yes, I'm fully aware of that. I've already showered and dressed; I was just waiting for you," he replied curtly, tucking a stray lock of blond hair behind his ear. While the hair was short, it was still long enough to fall in front of his face, especially since he'd stopped using gel a while back.

"Oh, well…thank you," she mumbled, tugging the second boot on over her jeans. "Well, let's get going then, shall we?" She threw on her coat and outer gear, waiting for him at the entrance.

Once they were outside of the Heads' Tower and on their way to the Great Hall, she began to feel slightly more at ease. The Common Room had felt strangely confining, as though in that small space some strangely intimate act had taken place and both had been terrified of reliving that moment. Now, out in the halls, she was able to breathe freely and felt like she could say anything without fear of the repercussions.

"Mal…"

"Granger, look, about last night…"

She turned, finding he had stopped mid-step, head hanging slightly, as though he didn't want her to see his face.

He'd been thinking about it since waking up moments after her that morning. He had watched her bound up the stairs, watched the way she somehow had this strange skip in her step. He assumed that she had put two-and-two together. Hopefully, she hadn't come to the wrong conclusion…

But, he'd still been thinking about last night. It had been so kind of her to wait up for him, to still make him the hot chocolate even though he'd acted like a right prat. He knew, after his outburst, that he hadn't really deserved any kindness from her. He hadn't called her any names, but actions, even just the tone of ones voice, had impacts on people.

He hadn't been mean to her but he had still acted like a prat.

He felt embarrassed by his childish actions, absolutely appalled that he had acted like that in public, and had felt overwhelming guilt when he'd came back and found her sleeping on the couch.

"I…I'm sorry for the way I acted. I was a right git and you didn't deserve that." He buried his hands in his pockets, feeling his face redden with embarrassment. He really wasn't used to apologizing, especially not to people he used to hate with a passion. "You were very kind, showing me a good time yesterday, and it was rude of me to act like that. So…I'm sorry."

She couldn't help it; she couldn't possibly fight back the smile that made her face light up. The warm sensation was back, creating this tingling sensation from her head all the way down to her toes, and her heart made this strange flutter that she'd never felt before.

He was so sweet sometimes…for an acquaintance.

"It's okay, Malfoy…really. I can understand if, well, something traumatizing happened when you were younger that makes you hate baking. Or maybe you just don't like the mess…but, really, it's okay. You weren't a git, you were just upset." Her grin broadened as he looked at her in shock.

Deep down, a secret part of her liked the way his cheeks mottled with red when embarrassed. It was almost…dare she say…cute.

"I…I…" He just stopped trying altogether. His body felt warm, electric pulses of heat spreading through his body as she smiled at him. It was strange; he'd never felt such a sensation before. Maybe…maybe this smile was different…?

But she was still just an acquaintance…

Burrowing his hands deeper in his pockets, he strode onward, finding the situation to be growing odder by the minute.

Rushing after him, she walked by his side, listening at the voices from the Great Hall grew louder.

He paused at the top of the stairs, looking straight ahead.

"Granger."

"Hm?" She glanced at him, noting that his cheeks were going red again.

"The hot chocolate was delicious."

He walked down the stairs, leaving her in shock at the top of the steps. As the warm sensation consumed her, she felt her cheeks blush and a permanent smile painted on her lips."

"You're welcome," she murmured softly, rushing down to meet him.

* * *

She avoided Ron all day, staying as far from him as possible. She knew that he was somewhere out there, sulking and grumbling while Harry tried to have a pleasant time. She, on the other hand, stood with Ginny and Luna in front of Flatterbly's, in search for more ingredients and Christmas gifts.

Today was the last day for everyone to visit Hogsmeade, so all of the shops were packed with students searching for gifts and last minute candies. Hermione, on the other hand, had all of Christmas break to come back and look for more presents. But that didn't mean she didn't want to buy her friends' gifts just yet.

"What are you getting Harry this year, Gin?" Hermione asked, rocking on the spot.

"I don't know. He's so picky," the redhead sighed, glad for this moment with Hermione, away from all of the stress and chaos surrounding her decision to stay. It was nice, focusing on the little topic of what to buy for whom. "I'll tell you this, if you buy him a book, make it something interesting for him."

"What about a book on Nargles?" Luna piped up, smiling dreamily.

Ginny rolled her eyes, looking back over at Hermione. "Just don't get him a sweater, you know mum knits him one every year."

Hermione laughed, enjoying this amazing mood she was in. It was great, being able to smile and feel so carefree. She didn't have to worry about Ron's moods or Harry's probing eyes, she didn't have to worry about Draco's random outbursts or strange emotions. Just had to focus on one task; getting Christmas gifts.

"Well, I'm getting your mum that lovely cookbook series. I know how much she loves cooking. You guys, well, yours is a secret. I've already bought treats for everyone else, and I got my parents their gift, so all that's left is Harry."

"You forgot Ron," Luna said softly, either oblivious to the situation between the redhead and brunette or enjoying every minute of watching Hermione squirm.

"Yeah…I…I already got him something too," she muttered, looking down at her feet. She knew that Ron really didn't deserve it, especially not after the way he'd been treating her of late, but she couldn't help it. He was her best friend; she couldn't not buy him a gift.

"Really?" Ginny sounded genuinely surprised. Perhaps she was the only one out of them who knew that Ron hadn't bought Hermione something. It was rude of him and she had given him grief over it ever since he said he would refuse to buy her something. Ron was such a prat.

"What are you getting him?" the blonde asked before Ginny had a chance.

"Oh well, last time we were here, I saw this display of a pile of Chudley Cannon's merchandise, so I picked him up a shirt, flag that sings their song, some autographed cards, another book, a few posters, and a new pair of shoes." The blush rose on her cheeks at Ginny's outraged cry.

"Hermione! Do you have any idea how much that stuff costs?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, kicking at the snow.

"Then why did you waste your money on him? He's been a real git to you lately, and what do you do? You go out and buy him a whole pile of gifts that probably cost you a…a …"

"About a month's allowance with work money included," Hermione finished for her, still kicking at the snow, wishing that she could disappear at any moment. When Ginny got angry, she really took after her mother.

"Hermione!!! You bloody …"

"How kind."

Ginny paused at Luna's soft voice, turning to face the blonde as she smiled with that distanced look on her face.

"That was very kind of you, Hermione. You have a good heart." Luna faced Hermione, a knowing look twinkling in her blue eyes. "You always think about others…even when they haven't been the nicest of people."

Ginny's mouth opened and closed like a stunned blowfish while Hermione tried burrowing her face into her scarf. What Luna had said was so unbelievably sweet and Hermione had no way of thanking her for it.

"So, I was thinking of getting Harry a Bullerby's horn, they're supposed to be good luck, you know," Luna said after a moment's silence. "They're small and not at all feminine, so I could put it on a necklace for him. I think he would like it, don't you, Ginny?"

Momentarily dazed, the redhead shook her head to clear her vision before facing Luna. "I, uh…well…what the hell is a Bullerby?"

Hermione grinned at this, glad that Luna always managed to direct conversation on to safe topics. Luna had always had a knack for that, an uncanny ability to avoid confrontation and diffuse arguments of any size or nature.

Luna was going to make an amazing mother one day…

As Luna began a long and complicated explanation of what Bullerby's were and how they were lucky, Hermione glanced down at the list she'd pulled out from her pocket. On it were ingredients for treats she planned on making, as well as the names "Harry" and "Malfoy" with question marks beside them.

Yes, Hermione Granger had decided, that very morning, that she was going to buy Draco Malfoy a Christmas gift. She wasn't sure yet what he wanted; she planned on asking him a bit, asking a few people who were neutral on the situation, before making a final decision. But, she was going to buy him some thing…or some things.

She couldn't help herself; after the way he'd made her feel that morning, the warm sensation of comfort and security after he'd smiled and apologized, she couldn't let him go another Christmas without a sentimental gift.

And no, she was not going to wrap herself in ribbons and wait under the Christmas tree until he got up. It was just foul…they were acquaintances, not lovers! Besides, she'd probably fall asleep waiting and he'd come down to find her sprawled naked on the floor, snoring loudly and drooling.

Oh what a sight to behold first thing Christmas morning!

Besides, why would a Pureblood like him want a Mudblood like her? Even if she did like him, their relationship would never last.

"I'll get my ingredients first," she stated, cutting into what could have been a very nasty argument between Ginny and Luna; Ginny had adamantly opposed the idea of Bullerby's existing.

In actuality, it would've been like any other argument with Luna; Ginny would be just arguing with herself while Luna smiled dreamily.

Heading into Flatterbly's, she had everyone break up and search for her ingredients.

As she compared the differences between Pure Vanilla Extract and Artificial Vanilla Extract, Luna popped out of nowhere, pretending to focus on the remaining extracts.

"How's the plan coming along?"

Always perceptive and direct, Luna never missed a beat and must have somehow known of Hermione and Draco's excursion the day before. Or she was just inquiring since it had been a week since their first discussion and Hermione was just being paranoid.

"It's going well," she replied softly, keeping her voice down in case Ginny appeared out of nowhere. "We went out and tried building snowmen yesterday." Luna arched a brow and Hermione continued, understanding the unspoken question. "He was leaning on his piece and it broke underneath his weight. It was really funny, actually."

"Does he like the snow now?" Luna asked, moving when Hermione chose the Pure Extract and went over to choose chocolate chips.

"I believe so," Hermione paused to stare at the prices and compare. "He said that he kind of liked it, said it was okay, but I think that it was his way of telling me that he likes it."

There was a calm silence for a moment, broken only by Hermione as she tossed a few bags into her basket, until Hermione let out a quiet sigh.

"Yesterday was so…pleasant. It's weird; everyone says all of these things, they say he's uptight, that's he's arrogant, that he would never lower himself to do childish things. But yesterday…it was really fun. I enjoyed myself," she admitted quietly, turning to face Luna.

The blonde smiled knowingly, rocking from side to side as though channeling some spirit. "Draco…he's kind of like a raw diamond. When you find it, you see all this dirt and grime, all of the nasty stuff that hiding the inside. But, once you scrape away all of the dirt and grime, once you push past that exterior, you find the most beautiful thing on earth. I think that Draco has a beautiful heart, you just have to dig through all of the dirt and grime to find it." Luna reached out and gently patted Hermione's hand. "But…there's a lot of dirt and grime to scrape through, so it'll be tough."

Hermione was left dumbstruck, unsure of what to say after hearing such lovely words. She stood there, mind whirling with a myriad of thoughts, and Luna just winked.

"I think that you can do it, Hermione. I think that you can find the real Draco under the muck."

* * *

Secretly, Draco loathed Hogsmeade trips. While the village was picturesque with the snow covered roofs and glowing lights, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortably claustrophobic with so many students running about. He hated how they always seem to brush against him, how everyone either hit him harder or avoided him altogether.

He also hated how Goyle seemed to find him and follow him everywhere, soon followed by Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.

Goyle had, somehow, managed to come clean after the war and, through acts of community service and by naming known Death Eaters, he'd been able to be accepted in society. Now, without Crabbe, he looked happier than ever, as though Crabbe had been weighing him down all these years.

Maybe it was also because Draco had stopped using him as a crony and more like a friend.

Blaise, on the other hand, had remained blissfully and intelligently neutral during the war. His mother had hidden in Italy while he had remained in Britain, untouched by both sides until it came down to the battle. He was among the very few Slytherins who remained behind to help fight the Dark Lord. His skills in battle had been almost unrivaled, which had surprised the hell out of most of the students.

Pansy, however, still retained her Nazism ideals. While she'd been allowed to return to Hogwarts, she was one of the few people who still called Muggle-Borns Mudbloods, acting the same way she had before the Dark Lord's fall. It seemed that some people just didn't learn.

Needless to say, he enjoyed Goyle and Blaise's company while he wished Pansy could be sent to some kind of boot camp. Or that someone had killed her during the battle, one of the two.

Right now, as she clung greedily to his arm, he wished for number two with all of his might.

"Draco," he turned to the African-Italian boy at his side, "are the rumours true?"

Pansy lifted her face at this, arching a thinly plucked brow at Draco.

"What rumours?" Draco sighed, feigning indifference when he knew and feared what Blaise was about to say.

Chocolate eyes glowing, more with curiosity than anything else, Blaise continued; "I heard a few rumours this morning. Many students are under the belief that you were outside playing in the snow."

"I thought you hated the snow," Pansy whined, still clinging ferociously to Draco. "Whenever I ask you to come outside with me, you always bitch and say that you hate the snow. Why didn't you take me?"

"Apparently he was with Ms. Granger," Blaise finished, his soft voice as cool as silk.

"No!" Pansy shrieked, tearing herself away from him, earning a few glares from nearby students. "You were _not_ with her!"

"Pansy," Goyle tsked, "there's nothing wrong with Ms. Granger. She's…she's actually very nice."

"What?" she cried shrilly. "She is anything but nice! How could you say something like that Goyle?"

"It's true," Goyle replied fiercely. It seemed that, with Crabbe gone and Draco using him more as a friend, Goyle's self-esteem and confidence had increased. "She is very nice to everyone and she fought really hard during the war. And you know…she's never done anything wrong to you."

"Never done anything wrong to me? Just the fact that she was born is doing something wrong to me," Pansy hissed, her pug face twisting inelegantly. "Draco, tell me that you weren't outside playing in the snow with that Mudblood!"

Draco felt his face twitch at the word, finding it extremely unpleasant. It made his stomach knot uncomfortably and he developed a bad taste in his mouth.

"And if I did?" he said softly, knowing that Blaise and Goyle were waiting on Pansy's reaction. He knew, deep down, that the two of them would always side with him; no one truly believed in Pansy's foul thoughts anymore. Everyone had matured since their sixth year.

Everyone except for Pansy, it seems.

"Just tell me! Did you or did you not play with the Mudblood yesterday? You know, Draco, I've been awfully patient this year. I've let you two study together, I haven't complained about you two living together, and I have certainly not bitched about you two sharing the same bathroom. But this…this…if you did this, I won't be patient anymore."

Sighing heavily, Draco resisted the urge to smack something. "Pansy, you have _never_ been patient in your entire life. You have spent the past four months bitching and complaining about my cohabitation with Granger. You really test my patience sometimes."

Sometimes?

She _always_ tested his patience and, for the most part, his patience had a tendency to falter and explode into a violent temper. He really didn't know why he put up with her anymore; she was rather useless and a horrible influence on the younger Slytherins. He didn't want to be seen associating with people like her anymore. Furthermore, he had a feeling that it was one of the reasons most students still looked at him with fear and disgust.

Yet, he stayed with Pansy. Perhaps it was out of habit, maybe because, if she weren't such a bitch, she had a decent personality. Perhaps a deeper part of him had secretly wanted to show the world that she wasn't as awful as she appeared to be.

He wasn't sure; all he knew was that he didn't feel like dealing with her stupidity at this moment.

"Draco," she said, slowly drawing out his name, signaling that she was becoming irked. "I don't care about your patience. I need to know if you were playing with that Mudblood yesterday because if you were…"

"She's not a fucking Mudblood!"

Every single being, alive or not, stopped in their tracks to gape openly at Draco.

"W…What did you just say?" Pansy stammered furiously.

Fury etched his face, eyes turning into orbs of steel as he growled.

"I said that she is not a fucking Mudblood. Learn the fucking correct term; she's a person. She is not different from the rest of us, so get off your high fucking horse and deal with it." His voice had lowered drastically, eyes narrowing as his face shadowed with menace as he towered over her.

Trembling violently from a sudden onslaught of fear, Pansy fought back the urge to run. She had never seen Draco so infuriated before in her life. Swallowing thickly, she managed to calm her fears long enough.

"Draco! You know that she is not the same as us. She's a Mudblood, she's not worthy of us. We're Purebloods, higher than her, better than her, and definitely not the same as her. I forbid you from dealing with her!"

His eyes flashed and if Goyle and Blaise weren't there, Draco would've probably broken his cardinal rule; never hit a girl. In his opinion, however; Pansy was no girl. She was demon spawn, a foul creature, a disgusting bigot, basing all thoughts and ideals on racist imagery.

She was someone who deserved a good punch to the face.

"Pansy," he hissed, no longer pulling on Blaise and Goyle's hold, "you get the fuck out of here before I do something I really won't regret."

She blanched, eyes widening with surprise. "Was…was it something I said? Did I do something wrong to upset you?"

She was either a really good actress or just bloody dense. The majority of the student population believed in the latter, including Draco.

"It's everything you stand for. You sicken me, Pansy. You come near me again, you call her that one more time, I will not be held accountable for my actions. Do you understand?"

Blaise and Goyle, still holding Draco, were silently nodding in agreement to his words. They were sick of Pansy and her stupidities. Tired and frustrated with the way Pansy treated everyone, Muggle-Born and Pureblood alike. They had grown up; it had taken them some time, but they had finally opened their eyes and saw the world in an unbiased fashion.

They just couldn't understand why she couldn't do the same.

"Just answer me this, Draco. Were you playing with…_her_…yesterday?" Finally, some true fear showed in her eyes. This time, it was a fear not easily quenched.

His eyes softened just a bit, his body relaxing as he recalled the afternoon he had spent with Hermione. It had been surprisingly delightful, attempting to build snowmen, making snow angels, and the hot chocolate at the end had been the icing on the cake. Even today, when he'd seen her smile with genuine joy, the warmth that had spread through his body had been like no other.

No delicious treat, no warm meal, no loving hug had ever created such warmth within him before.

At one time or another, he would have been ashamed of being acquainted with Hermione. He would have found something to say, some action to perform that would either distract everyone from the topic or let them know that he would never associate himself with such 'filth.' But now…after four years of reformation, after more than five years of mental reorganizing, he knew that he should not be ashamed.

Hermione Granger was a lovely woman and he should never have to be ashamed to be associated with her.

"Yes, Pansy, I was with her." He grinned; it would have seemed cruel if it weren't for the tender look in his eyes. "And I enjoyed myself. I really enjoyed myself."

Shrieking with fury, she threw her hands in the air, gesturing wildly, moving as though to slap him before spinning around and stomping off.

Relaxing in Blaise and Goyle's arms, he felt them pat him on the back.

"You're a good man, Draco," Goyle said softly.

Blaise smiled knowingly. "Goyle's right; you're a very good man. Never be ashamed of your friends."

'_She's…she's not my friend…'_ Draco thought, unwilling to say it aloud;_ 'she's just an acquaintance…'_

**Chapter 6 done!**

**Today's recipe is: Cardamom-Spiced Shells (what Hermione planned on making in Chapter 5)**

**Ingredients:**

**¾ cup unsalted butter, softened½ cup granulated sugar**

**1 egg yolk1 ½ cups all-purpose flour**

**½ tsp ground cardamom¼ tsp salt**

**Topping:**

**4 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped (125 g)**

**Ion bowl, beat butter with sugar until fluffy; beat in egg yolk. In small bowl, whisk together flour, cardamom, and salt; stir into butter mixture in 2 additions.**

**Using piping bag fitted with ½-inch star tip, pipe dough into 1 ¼ inch shells or rosettes, 1 inch apart, onto parchment paper-lined baking sheets.**

**Bake in 350 F (180C) oven until golden, 12 to 15 minutes. Let cool on pans on racks for 3 minutes. Transfer to racks; let cool completely.**

**Topping: In heatproof bowl over saucepan of hot (not boiling) water, melt chocolate. Dip one-third of each cookie into chocolate; refrigerate on waxed paper-lined trays until set, about 30 minutes.**

**Today's recipe was brought to you by: Canadian Living, December 2008 edition, page 168. **

**Note: you do not necessarily need the piping bag; I made them without it and just placed a fork on them to create lines. The piping bag is used more for decoration/appearance.**

**Review overview:**

**Flames = used to flame Draco's fury towards Pansy**

**Constructive criticism = welcome. If any mistakes are seen, please mention them and I will be sure to edit/change them when posting the next chapter.**

**Adoration = duh. Makes me feel good. That's all that matters. Lol.**

**Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**Note: thanks to -L-Lawliet'sGirl-BabyBlueWinx- for the idea of using the word "bigot." I had used something harsher beforehand and she gave me the wonderful word "bigot" and made me happy. ^.^ For that, you get lemon pie.  
**


	8. Burning Pain

**Chapter 7**

**Burning Pain  
**

He was upset. She'd noticed it when they met up to gather the students for the return to Hogwarts. He was tense, his body coiled like a snake ready to lunge, and it made her worry.

Since when did she start worrying about Draco?

It was weird; ever since she began this plan, ever since she first stepped outside with him to enjoy the snow, she felt like their relationship was gradually growing more intimate.

She didn't know when it started or why it was even happening; all she knew was that it was happening and she probably couldn't stop it if she wanted to.

Sitting on the kitchen table, letting the aromas waft around the Common Room, she let her eyes drift close as she inhaled the sweet scent of chocolate. The day had been stressful; she'd dealt with Ginny's inquiring stares, the stress of having to find the perfect gift for Harry (which wound up being the latest broom, Firebolt 3000, something she, Ginny and Luna had all pitched in to buy), rounding up rowdy teens, and Draco's strange moods.

She needed this time to relax. To enjoy the process of baking, to focus only on measurements and when to pour, how to pour and when to mix, and to let the sweet scents take her to a world where there was no stress.

To a place where she didn't have to ask before she did anything.

While waiting for them to finish baking, she had quickly scribbled a note to her mother asking her to send her laptop and a few of her favourite Christmas CDs and movies. She would have to wait until later to take it up to Owlery; she didn't want the brownies to burn.

Humming a song, she literally laid down on the table, keeping her eyes shut as she found a sense of inner peace.

Today had been very odd. She'd heard several rumours that Pansy had run back to the school crying, which had been added to the rumours that Pansy and Draco had had a rather big row. Hermione had been mildly curious of what had transpired, until she'd seen just how tense Draco was during the 'round up' period. In fact, he had nearly made a fourth year cry.

She had tsked at Draco, giving him hell in front of the fourth year, and helped the poor girl with her bags; the child had bought too many things.

It was odd, thinking of the fourth years and how different life had seemed for her, Harry and Ron. In fourth year, they had been forced to grow up fast. The Triwizard Tournament had forced them to mature in a way no child at fourteen should mature. Then, with the revival of the Dark Lord, there had been no more time for playing or thinking of Christmas presents.

There had only been darkness and death.

They'd grown up fast, almost too fast, and she wanted to make sure that no child had to grow up that fast ever again. She wanted people to enjoy their childhood, to enjoy living life, even when times got stressed or dark.

Maybe…maybe this was a reason for why she wanted Draco to enjoy Christmas. He, too, had been forced to grow up fast. In all of her years at Hogwarts, she had never seen him truly enjoying himself. His smile never met his eyes, his laughter washollow and emotionless, and his steps were never light with mirth.

Yesterday, for the first time, she saw him smile a smile that reached his eyes and made them glow, she had listened to him laugh that deep-bellied laugh filled with joy, and she had watched him walk with a light spring in his step he thought nobody noticed.

People thought that, at nineteen, one was too old to enjoy life and its childish aspects. Hermione thought that no one was ever too old to enjoy life.

Leaping off of the table, she gathered up her clean equipment and began the process of preparing the cardamom-spiced shells she'd planned on making the day before.

Measuring out the ingredients, pouring them into the bowl to mix, she pulled out her wand in the process, pointed it to a nearby magical radio, and had music livening up the place.

Wizard Christmas music, in her opinion, was odd but enjoyable nonetheless.

Humming to the tune, she continued the baking process, measuring and mixing, before, finally, the dough was ready to be placed on the sheet. Pulling out her piping bag, she began the cautious process of squeezing out just enough dough to make the perfect sized cookies.

Being a perfectionist was handy when it came to baking and Hermione was the Queen of Perfectionism.

Finally, a tune she recognized came belting out of the radio, and she swung her hips to the beat, singing softly, "Rockin' around the Christmas tree…"

Her thoughts were suddenly dragged to Draco. He had disappeared, again, after they brought everyone back from Hogsmeade. The tension had vibrated the air around him, even affecting his followers, Blaise and Goyle. She assumed that he had sulked off somewhere to vent in whichever way he knew how.

At least they hadn't had a childish row again, although she worried that, if he came back and saw her baking, or saw the mess, the row may start up all over again.

Her smile faltered. She hadn't had the nerve earlier to ask him why he hated baking; she knew that it had taken him all of his strength to just apologize to her. She wasn't going to pry just yet; it was too soon, the wounds too raw, and she really did not feel like spending her holidays avoiding him.

Her reason for staying was to spend the holidays _with_ him, not away from him.

Thus, once she saw everyone off the next day, she planned on heading into Hogsmeade again to buy a whole pile of Christmas decorations.

She would certainly liven up the place.

Smile returning, she finished one sheet of cookies and went onto the next. She'd, fortunately, been smart enough to clean up before this process, wiping down the counters, putting away the ingredients, afraid that Draco may not like the mess when he came in. This also meant that she would have a smaller cleaning task once everything was done; the sink was magically at work with washing the dishes.

Chuckling softly, she found it comical how she refused to bake with magic, but when it came to the cleaning process, she absolutely loved magic. But, who in their right mind actually enjoyed cleaning? Magic just made the harder things easier.

With the cookies all laid out, she tossed the bag into the sink, where the cleaning tools attacked it with vigor. As the oven began to beep, she hurriedly moved the trays aside, making space on the stove stop for the brownie pan.

First testing the food, she deemed it edible and cooked, yanked on gloves and began to pull it out of the oven.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She jumped; the pan fell out of her hands, landing in a pile on the floor by the oven door. A burning pain seared her wrist, going up her arm in an uncomfortable tingling sensation. Quickly pulling her arm out from the oven, she spun around, finding a pale Draco standing in the doorway.

She watched in shock as he hurried forward and grabbed her shoulders, trying to pry her away from the kitchen.

"You have to get out of here. Get out…get out before he comes," he cried, his voice choking as though he were pleading.

Dazed and confused, she let him drag her away from the kitchen, mitts still on, door still open, and only began to fight back once they reached the living room.

"Wait! Wait just one bloody moment!" she demanded, digging her heels into the ground, forcing him to stop. "What the hell is your problem?"

She swung around to face him and stopped in her tracks. His eyes were hazy, misted by a deep swirling fog, and she knew, instinctively, that he was locked in some kind of memory.

"You're not supposed to be baking. He forbade it; you're not allowed to do it. You know what he'll do. Go! I'll take care of it, I'll clean it up." He was pleading now, grip tightening on her shoulders as he tried to yank her away.

She reached up, grabbing his wrists to stop him from tightening his hands, and she looked him dead in the eye.

"Malfoy, I don't know what you're doing or where you are right now, but there is nothing wrong with baking. I don't know who 'he' is and, to be honest, I don't really care right now." The burning pain in her wrist intensified as his jacket brushed against it, but she pushed it down. "Just let me go."

His eyes blinked and he looked momentarily confused. His grip slackened just a bit but not enough for her. She knew that he was stuck in the throes of some foul memory; she seen Harry have enough attacks of his own to recognize the symptoms. She also knew how to diffuse and ease them.

Taking in a deep breath, she eased her grasp on his wrist, making it resemble more of a tender touch than anything else.

"Malfoy," her voice had softened, annoyance no longer leading her actions, "we are at Hogwarts. We are in the Heads' Tower and nobody is going to hurt anyone. We went to Hogsmeade today, remember? You snapped at that poor fourth year and I had to shout at you. But, most importantly, nobody will hurt us. Nobody can hurt us; we're safe now."

"But…but you were baking…you're not supposed to bake…it's not…" She watched as he fought to blink through the fog, fought to gain some semblance of consciousness and reality. She watched him and held on, waiting for that one little break in the haze.

"We're safe, Malfoy," she said softly, hoping the soothing tone of her voice would help him.

"But…I…" He blinked rapidly, slowing his heartbeat and easing his breathing, his pulse eased and the fog began to fade away. He no longer saw the image of his beautiful and fragile mother in the kitchen, no longer saw the figure of evil, his father, towering down on her as he screamed and beat her.

Instead, he now saw…

"Granger?" His lips formed a grimace of embarrassment and annoyance. "What the hell is going on?"

Realizing that she was still holding his wrists, keeping his hands in place, she coughed quietly and let go, letting her arms fall to her sides.

"I…well…"

He let his hands drop, frowning as he looked around. "What happened?"

She knew that this would happen; Harry, too, had a tendency to let the memories consume him to the point that he remembered nothing from the moment they were unearthed.

She knew, deep down, that Draco would probably not want her telling him what had transpired during his fit.

She did the next best thing; she lied.

"You came in and threw a fit. I dropped the pan and made a mess all over the floor and you were shouting about how I've made a mess." She sighed heavily, putting the right amount of irritation in her voice to make it sound true. "Really, Malfoy, I was just going to get a bloody towel to clean the mess, you really didn't have to come over and shake me like I was ignoring you."

"I was?" There was a tremor of disbelief in his voice, faint but there.

Rolling her eyes, she gestured to the kitchen area, half blocked by the island that separated it from the rest of the living quarters. There, on the floor, just within their sight, were her brownies, a pile of melted chocolate and smeared cheesecake.

"Really, Malfoy," she reiterated, "I was going to clean it up. You didn't have to throw a fit." Sighing heavily, she turned away from him, grabbing her wand from where she'd left it on the counter.

Muttering a few quick spells, the brownies were clean and put back in the pan, the exact same way they were before falling on the ground. She even did an anti-contamination spell, removing any extra dirt or bacteria that hadn't been removed from the first spell. Smiling, finding it as good as new, she continued to ignore the throbbing pain in her left wrist as she closed the oven door and adjusted the temperature for her cookies.

"I really don't know what you have against baking," she sighed heavily. "There is nothing wrong with it. I mean, just smell the air. Doesn't it smell delicious?"

He knew that she was trying to find a lighter topic and that she was succeeding. He also knew that she had lied to him, but that would wait for another day. He suddenly felt too emotionally drained to even want to fight. He wanted to shout at her, to remind her that he had clearly forbade her from cooking in the Heads' Tower, but the fact that she'd did it anyways had shocked him enough.

Now, with the way she was acting, as though nothing were wrong, he felt the shock grow along with a new respect for the woman before him. He must have said some shocking things, he knew he must have done a few embarrassing things as well, but she ignored it, acting as though nothing odd had transpired.

She scared the shit out of him sometimes.

"Granger," he started, suspicion thickening his voice, "is that really what happened?"

Placing the pan on a cooling rack, she nodded. "Of course, why would I lie about you acting like a prat?"

Sighing in frustration, he tossed his jacket onto the nearest piece of furniture. "Granger, what did I say about baking in this bloody Tower?" The irritation was returning with a vengeance.

She smiled knowingly, glad that they were finally on safe ground. She slid the first tray of cookies into the oven before answering. "I believe you forbade me."

"So then why are you in the fucking kitchen, baking, when I clearly told you not to?" Oh yes, here was the row she'd been waiting for.

She'd rather have a vicious fight with Draco right now than have to listen to him explain his actions from before; a fight was easier to deal with, involved less emotions, while listening to someone deep secrets could make or break a friendship.

Not that they were friends or anything…just acquaintances.

"And I believe I ignored you." Hands on hips, she faced him, determination set in her face. "Look, I don't know what you have against baking, I really don't, but it's going to stop. It's Christmas time! This time of year is perfect for baking all sorts of sweets and I just happen to love baking Christmas goodies. I don't have to listen to you, anyways. This is _our_ Tower, not yours, so you have no right forbidding me from doing anything."

"Granger, it's true that we share this Tower, but when I ask you not to do something, perhaps you could show common sense and not do it." He took a step closer, eyes flashing.

"Ask it? You didn't ask me to do anything! You demanded it!" she cried, taking a step closer to him.

"I clearly asked you not to do it and you obviously have no respect for me, since you went ahead and did it anyways!" he retorted, stepping close enough that only the island separated them. His face was flushed with frustration, eyes a stormy grey.

Her ambers ones darkened, lips pursing with annoyance. "Malfoy, I don't have to do a single bloody thing you tell to, so bugger off. I have every right to do whatever the hell I want and you can't stop me."

"I am a Malfoy!" he shouted, face closing in on hers. "You cannot disrespect me by ignoring my demands."

"So you finally accept that you demanded, not asked?" she spat, closing the gap between them.

"You are fucking annoying," he growled.

"Well, this is what I think about you right now." She gestured wildly with her left hand, repeating the same gesture he had showed her just a few nights back.

Lunging out, he grabbed her wrist tightly, intending to move her arm out of the way. When a cry of pain was torn from her lips, all movement stopped.

"I didn't grab you that hard, Granger," he said after a moment's hesitation.

Biting on her lower lip, she moved to jerk her wrist from his hold. He, however, kept a strong grip and yanked her closer. Pressed against the counter, she snarled out furious words as he inspected her wrist.

On the inside of it, he found a large, red mark, fresh and warm to the touch.

"What happened?"

Taking advantage of his momentary daze, she yanked her wrist free, moving over to the sink to pour cold water onto the burning flesh.

"I burnt my bloody wrist when this bloody idiot decided to come in and shout at me," she snapped.

"I…I caused that?" His eyes drifted over the area, taking in the clean kitchen, the brownies on the counter, and the cookies in the oven. He began the same mental calculation process he had done the other night.

She had ignored him and baked anyways, made brownies, not just for herself, but for him as well. She had gone out, bought the ingredients with her own money, and had come back and baked anyways. She didn't care how furious he would be, didn't care about his reaction; she just wanted to make him something special.

And he had nearly ruined it again.

He was a right git.

To top it all off, he had shouted at her, scared her, and caused her to burn herself. Then, instead of crying over the burn, instead of focusing on it, she had focused on bringing him back from his memories.

She could be annoying at times, made him absolutely livid, but…she was unbelievably kind. Goyle was wrong earlier; he didn't have a good heart.

She did.

All tension eased from his body as guilt swamped him for the second (or was it third? He was losing count) time in the past week.

"Look, Granger…" His voice had softened, signaling that an anomaly was about to happen. Two times in one day…that was rare indeed. "I'm sorry. You've been doing all of these nice things lately and I just…I keep ruining them." He shoved his hands into his pockets as his cheeks flushed with shame. "I really am a prat."

She stilled as the water rushed over her wrist, forgetting about the numbing pain and focusing on his words. She still couldn't believe that he had just apologized to her…again. Her heart thundered in her chest as she thought of the possibilities and reasons. Maybe…maybe she was finally breaking through the stone exterior.

Smiling as heat spread through her body, easing the pain and soothing her mind, she turned off the tap and gingerly dried her wrist, turning around to face him.

"You're right. You are a right prat sometimes," he looked up to find her smiling the way she'd been smiling that morning. "But, you're not a bad person; just a little…odd."

He wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult and he took it with a grain of salt. Hermione had been acting differently lately, showing more kindness towards him, giving him more chances than he would have been willing to give himself.

Maybe it was just the Christmas spirit.

All he knew was that when she smiled like that, the warm feeling threatened to consume him.

"So…" he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "What…what did you make?"

She grinned, turning to show him the goodies.

At least he hadn't tossed the food out.

"Oh, Granger."

"Yes Malfoy?" she sighed in irritation, cutting the brownies into squares.

The music playing switched to an unknown and rather odd song.

"What the fuck are we listening to?"

She began to laugh. "To be honest, I have no clue."

* * *

After some tending to by Madame Pomfrey, and some scolding to boot, Hermione's wrist was back the way it had been before, scar-free and pain-free. It was Monday morning, the day when the students were to head back home for the holidays.

She had decided that today she would sit with Harry and Ginny in the Great Hall and try to say goodbye while on good terms.

Ron, however, continued to sulk and was squished between Seamus and Neville. Throughout the whole meal, which had been considerably comfortable giving the circumstances, he had been flashing furious glares in her direction.

Harry had been nervous, giving her suspicious looks every now and then, but for the most part he had been cooperative and understanding. She had explained to him that she was staying for Head reasons.

"Professor McGonagall, at the last Heads' meeting, told us that a large number of students were staying behind. It was agreed amongst us that, as Heads, Malfoy and I would stay behind for Christmas to help the teachers with patrolling. Prefects don't have as many duties, so they aren't obliged to stay."

Harry and Ginny both seemed to accept this as a plausible reason and had resumed comfortable, light conversation with Hermione.

"Ginny told me you did all your Christmas shopping yesterday," Harry said with a grin. "If you wouldn't mind, could you Owl me tomorrow to let me know what you bought her? We're going to head into Diagon Alley this week to do more Christmas shopping and I don't want Gin to get the same present from the two of us."

"Oh, certainly, I don't mind at all." Hermione made a mental note to charm the letter when she saw Ginny's conspiratorial smile. "What are you guys getting Luna?"

The topic stayed light for some time, the group discussing what to get whom, what they planned for the holidays, and how Hermione was going to deal with Draco.

"Oh, he's pleasant enough when not annoyed," she sad nonchalantly. "It's nice to have intellectual conversations with him, but that's as far as our 'relationship' goes."

Harry wanted to bring up the latest gossip, to ask her if she had been playing with Draco in the snow, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. For all he knew, this might be the last time they could spend as friends.

Hugging them, she waved them off as they departed; bundled in their cloaks, ready to go home for the holidays. She was smiling as she walked up the Grand Staircase, finding that life was, maybe, changing for the best.

"Hermione."

Spinning around, she found Ron standing a few steps below her, looking like he was battling some kind of inner war.

She took a step back, knowing that nobody was around to save her if Ron decided to attack her; she'd left her wand back in her room.

"What do you want?" She kept her voice light, not wanting to provoke him in any way or form.

"I…I…I don't know…" he mumbled, looking down at his feet. "I…wanted to yell at you, but…well…I don't know anymore." He looked up at her, eyes glowing. "What does he have that I don't?"

Her brows furrowed as she pursed her lips in confusion. Was he asking what she thought he was asking?

"Ron…I don't understand…"

"What does he have that I don't?" he said, louder this time. "I know that he's better at magic and probably a hell of a lot more attractive…but what's so special about him?"

"Are you talking about Malfoy?" she asked softly, afraid of the answer.

"Yes!" he cried, throwing his arms in the air. "I don't know why you're staying with him! I don't know why you're telling all of these lies! You go around, saying you're staying for Heads' reasons when I know you're staying for him! Why? I need to know why!" He stepped higher on the staircase, causing her to take a step back.

"Ron…you're confusing me. Why would I stay with him? You're sounding very odd."

"Tell me why! Why are you leaving _me_ alone to be with him? Are you…are you in love with him?"

"You're kind of scaring me, Ron," she said, taking another step back when he moved closer. "I think you should go."

"Go back to my house, without you," he spat. "What's so special about that prat? Tell me, Hermione! Tell me and I'll leave you alone."

"Why? Why should I tell you anything? You'll just start another bloody row!" she cried desperately. "You'll take everything personally, you'll start shouting, and you won't take no for an answer. I don't need you here at my beck and call, I don't need anyone to make my decisions for me, and I certainly don't have to give you the reasons for my decisions."

"He's a Death Eater, Hermione! He's evil! He'd probably take the chance and kill you as you sleep! Do you honestly think you can give him the perfect Christmas?"

"When did I ever say anything that implied such a thing?" she cried, taking two steps back as he moved forward.

"I know you…you just want to give the little Death Eater a happy Christmas and make things better for him. If you gave a damn about our relationship, you would pack your stuff and get your arse on that train!" He lunged forward.

"That's funny, Ron, because, last I knew, we weren't even in a relationship," she shouted. "I sent you all of these signs, I waited for you for three years, and you never gave a damn about my feelings. Don't start all of this 'relationship' bullshit, because it seems that the only reason you stepped forward is because I said no to you." She narrowed her eyes, clenching her fists, ready to fight him hand to hand if it meant securing her freedom. "Go catch your train, Ron. I think this discussion is over."

"The hell it is," he shouted, lunging forward. She took a quick step back, arriving on the landing just as the staircase began to move. He stumbled to a halt, moving away just in time as the top separated from the landing Hermione stood on.

"Have a Happy Christmas Ron," she said softly, turning and walking away, ignoring his cries of outrage.

She walked through the emptied hallways, blinking back tears as she thought over years of the way Ron had treated her. Wiping furiously at her eyes, she made her way back to the Heads' Tower, thinking over everything.

Ron…he was such a prat. He had no sense of empathy, no sympathy for others and certainly never gave a damn about the reasons he demanded to hear. Everything always had to go his way and he always wanted to take credit.

Draco was right, she realized; Ron was no longer the nice guy she had thought he was. He was selfish, thinking only of himself and not about the feelings of other people.

She mumbled the password to Aphrodite, ignoring the woman's kind words as she walked into the Tower. She ignored the look Draco gave her from his seat on the couch, heading into her room to gather her outer gear.

Coat on, scarf wrapped securely around her neck, she took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror.

She wasn't beautiful, was never meant to be a beauty, but she wasn't ugly either. So why, at times, did Ron make her feel so foul? Why did he have this uncanny ability to make her feel so horrible, when she knew she wasn't?

He was upset that she was staying; he'd made it obvious. She felt guilty for staying, felt like she was just being selfish, wanting to make herself feel better by giving Draco the best Christmas ever.

He made her feel like she never gave a fuck about anyone else.

She knew that she wasn't perfect; she wasn't the nicest person alive. But she wasn't the evil incarnate Ron pictured her as.

The tears burst forth, streaming down her cheeks as she stood and stared at herself. He made her feel like shit…complete shit. The way he spoke to her, the way he treated her, he made her feel like the worst human being on earth. It hurt…it hurt so bad to have a close friend treat her that way.

She didn't understand why…

The silent sobs wracked at her body, dragging her to knees as she cried, trying to push back every wave of guilt and shame, trying to remove every ounce of hurt within her body as she cried. She didn't know why she felt this way, why he made her feel so horrible, but she did.

She wiped furiously at her tears, choking on her sobs, her cheeks reddening with the effort to regain some sense of control.

It hurt...it hurt so bad...to be treated like that...to let others treat her like that...

Sometimes, she just hated herself.

* * *

Draco had been sitting contentedly on the couch, eating a brownie – which had turned out to be delicious – when she came into the room. He said a quiet hello and had watched as she ignored him, marching up to her room. Tense silence followed and Draco frowned down at his book, wondering what in the name of Salazar Slytherin was going on.

Getting to his feet, he paused in his steps.

Had she been crying?

Worry etched his features and he silently climbed the stairs, finding her door at the landing to be ajar.

He heard a distinct choking sound, like someone was heaving silently for air, and he quickly made his way to the door, afraid to see her locked in some kind of cruel torture curse.

What he found made his stomach knot and heart twist painfully.

It was far worse...

She was on her knees, sobbing her heart out, in front of the mirror.

He wanted to go inside her room, to go in there and hold her in his arms, to comfort her the way she managed to comfort him of late. He wanted to make her hot chocolate and bring it to her, hoping it would ease her tears. He wanted to grab her wrists and tell her to wake up from the nightmare.

But…he couldn't do those things.

So, he stood in her doorway, watching her cry as his heart sobbed for her.

**Done. **

**A little bit of sadness in the ending there, but I think we always need a bit of everything. Besides, things are set up here to further establish the relationship between Draco and Hermione. It helps it develop.**

**Today's recipe is: **

**Brownie Cheesecake Overload Bars (the brownies Hermione made earlier)**

**Ingredients:**

**2 packages (450 g each) of Duncan Hines Chocolate Lover's Chewy Fudge**

**6 eggs½ cup of canola or corn oil**

**½ cup water2 packages (250 g each) cream cheese, softened**

**½ cup granulated sugar½ cup milk**

**1 tsp vanilla1 cup each milk chocolate CHIPITS and white chocolate CHIPITS**

**½ cup chocolate frosting**

**Combine the brownie mix and prepare according to package directions using 2 of the eggs, oil and water. Scrape three quarters of the batter into greased 13 x 9 inch baking pan. Scrape the remaining batter into a greased 8x4 inch loaf pan. Bake both pans in 350 F (180 C) oven for 25 minutes or until a tester inserted in center comes out clean. Let cool completely. Cut the smaller brownie into ½-inch cubes.**

**Beat the cream cheese with the sugar until smooth using an electric mixer. Gradually beat in the mlk and vanilla. Beat in the remaining eggs, adding one at a time. Fold in half of brownie cubes, and the chocolate chips. Scrape over the prepared large brownie; sprinkle the remaining brownie cubes over top. Bake in center rack of oven for 35 to 40 minutes or until just set. Transfer pan to rack, let cool completely.**

**Heat the frosting in the microwave on high for 40 second or until a pourable consistency. Drizzle evenly over the prepared cheesecake. Refrigerate until set; slice into bars. Makes 12 servings or 32 snack-sized bars.**

**Today's recipe was brought to you by: Canadian Living, Bake Fest insert, in December 2008 issue. **

**Review overview:**

**Flames = used to make brownies of LOVE**

**Constructive criticism = welcome. If you see any mistakes, please feel free to report them to me via review.**

**Adoration = used as ingredients to make brownies of love. **

**THANK YOU!**


	9. Christmas Colours and Trees

**Someone mentioned in one of their earlier reviews that the students probably leave later on for their Christmas vacation. Like, only a few days before Christmas.**

**Well…that is not enough alone-time for Hermione and Draco, is that? So I shall ignore J.K.'s Christmas-vacation-time and have created my own.**

**You have a problem with that?**

**I don't care.**

**Another big thanks to mkhtl for pointing out more mistakes I've made. You're freakin' awesome.  
**

**Chapter 8**

**Christmas Colours and Trees**

"Where are you going?"

Hermione looked up, glancing over to the couch to find Draco sitting comfortably, book in his lap, watching her fix her scarf. She was unaware that Draco had snuck back down to the Common Room and had promptly spent a lengthy period of time going over his thoughts.

He knew why she'd been crying in her room, or at least had an idea of why, and he had spent a good five minutes resisting the impulse to go off and kill a certain Weasel. He had no clue where this sudden rage came from; he'd never felt so furious towards the Weasel before when Hermione had been hurt and this new feeling confused him.

The confusion had caused his thoughts to become momentarily erratic, increasing the perplexity and inhibiting him from establishing a fine line of thought. There were too many questions moving around in his brain right now for him to think clearly.

All he knew was that Hermione had been hurt and it bothered him.

Maybe it was some weird acquaintance thing…

It had been only a minute before she showed up at the bottom of the stairs when he'd finally cleared his mind enough to establish a plan.

Said plan had not yet been established by the time she showed up, so he had less than thirty seconds to come up with something rational and inconspicuous.

Now, what a better way to establish a plan by asking a certain brunette, dressed for going outside, where she was going.

He was so smart he frightened himself at times.

He watched her fidget with her scarf, playing with the end while he saw the emotions play in her eyes. Her eyes, he noticed, still glistened from unshed tears.

He felt something weird happen, almost as though a piece of was him torn off and ripped to shreds before his eyes. It was the strangest sensation and he knew that if he dwelled on it, it would only distract him from the task at hand.

"Granger, are you going to answer my question?" He marked his page and shut the book, turning to face her.

She was chewing on her lower lip, a habit he was starting to detest more and more. Her eyes darted about, as though searching for some answer she couldn't find. He could see the distress, the worry, and the fear in her eyes; knew that, if he were close enough, he could hear her pounding heart and smell the anxiety. She was nervous, embarrassed, and afraid that he could discover what she had been doing moments prior to this encounter.

Unfortunately for her, he already knew; he'd been watching from the doorway, unable to do anything but think over what her actions had done to his body and mind.

He was beginning to dislike the weird changes his body was going through. It was too uncomfortable, too strange, and far too unusual for it to be considered normal.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," she sighed, her voice thick from tears, softer and hoarser. "I was planning on going down to Hogsmeade to do some shopping."

He arched a brow. "Shopping for what? We already spent the whole day at Hogsmeade yesterday. You didn't get to finish buying enough random shit?"

Ignoring the annoyance in his voice, she replied, "I was with Ginny all day, so I couldn't buy her Christmas present. Besides, I wanted to get some decorations."

"Decorations?" he choked, eyes widening with fear. "But…for what?"

She smiled; she was enjoying this little conversation with him. It made her forget all of Ron's words and actions, helped alleviate her somber mood and distract her. It was…nice.

"For the Tower, what else? The school gets decorated but the Towers and House Common Rooms are not. I thought that it would be nice to add some Christmas joy in here. I was planning on buying some garland, a few plants, some Everlasting Icicles, and a few other little things here and there." Her smiled grew as his shock increased. She resisted the urge to say 'mistletoe' just to irritate him.

He leapt from the couch, flying to the bedroom before reappearing at the bottom of the stairs, coat in hand, hat shoved on his head and scarf loosely tied around his neck.

"I'm going with you."

She frowned. "What?"

"You heard me. I'm going with you; I don't want you buying everything in your bloody Gryffindor colours and I certainly do not want the Tower to look hideous. Muggles tend to have bad taste." He shrugged on his jacket, buttoning it up as he walked towards her.

"Excuse me?" she scoffed. "Muggles have bad taste? I believe about six years ago I met a wizard who wore women's dresses."

"Well, I suppose he was just confused," Draco shrugged. "Or maybe he just enjoys cross-dressing, you never know."

"I believe his words were 'I like the breeze around my privates' or something along those lines." She grinned, adding, "I was laughing too much to remember it clearly. But," she cleared her throat, "I believe that it is wizards who have bad taste."

"Excuse me, Granger? I have impeccable taste. I wear only the finest clothing, and I certainly know what to wear, how to wear it, and what it goes well with."

"That does not mean that Muggles have bad taste." She then smirked and he got a strange cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, pausing as he pulled on his boots. "You are just an exception. It's not my fault that you're homosexual."

"W…What?" he spluttered.

"If you wear only the finest clothing and know how to dress, then you must be homosexual. Or very metrosexual, but I prefer the idea of you being gay. It would explain why you've been so vicious to Harry all of these years." She buttoned up her jacket, acting as though her words were nothing but ordinary, simple sentences.

Draco, on the other hand, looked simply appalled and knew that the words were intended to hurt and maim his masculinity.

"I would never be attracted to Potter!" he cried.

She smirked in a fashion that would have made any Slytherin proud. "I never said that you were attracted to Harry." Leaning against the wall by the entranced, she waited for him to hurry up. "Is there something you're not telling me, Malfoy?"

His mouth hung open, eyes wide with shock as he simply stood there, gaping like a deer caught in headlights. She couldn't help it; she began to laugh. It was a pleasant sensation, being able to laugh when, barely ten minutes ago, she'd been sobbing in her room.

It was nice to know that some people were able to make her smile.

It was odd; not long ago, she'd have thought that Ron would've been the one to make her smile after Draco had made her cry. She had always thought that Ron would've been the one to make her feel pleasantly warm and content, safe and secure, when, at this moment in time, it was Draco. Odd as it was, it was comforting and soothing.

Almost as though a part of Draco actually cared about her feelings and he was, in his own way, trying to make her smile.

He really did have a good heart in there…somewhere.

"Well, Malfoy, are you coming or not? I would really like to get this shopping done before dinner." She shrugged her shoulders, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and tense.

Draco, completely oblivious to her thoughts, spluttered out a few incomprehensible words, finished with dressing, before walking over to her.

"Granger, the only reason I'd be gay is because I've spent the past four months with you," he finally replied, earning a curious glare from the brunette.

"Is that all you could come up with?" she asked as they exited.

They argued amiably throughout the corridors of Hogwarts, coming up with sarcastic retorts or teasing the other whenever one couldn't create an inventive enough reply. By the time they reached the entrance, Hermione's eyes were glowing and Draco was biting back laughter.

It was miraculous, the way a small discussion and laughter could push back negative thoughts and memories.

They walked out onto the snowy grounds, finding that several of the remaining students were out playing, taking the day to relax and fool around when there were no exams or essays to worry about.

Hermione smiled at the sight, feeling even more relaxed knowing that she had completely _all_ of her essays. She would have the entire vacation to de-stress and relax.

"So," Draco said as they clambered into a carriage, not in the mood to walk all the way to Hogsmeade, "what kind of decorations do Muggles get for Christmas?"

Hermione shrugged, glancing at the passing landscape before looking up at the Thestral pulling their carriage. She had thought, long ago, that she would've been terrified of the creatures. But, once she really looked at them, once she looked past their awful appearance, she had realized that they were beautiful.

She had to admit, she had become somewhat like Luna; she had developed a tendency to stash food in her pocket whenever she knew she'd see one.

"Muggles get the same decorations as Wizards, I suppose. My mum was never big on decorating; we didn't have much time. But I know the neighbours always had lights, garland, flowers, and little snowmen and Father Christmases throughout their homes."

"They had real snowmen in their homes?" Draco asked, astounded.

"No, fake ones; they were plushies."

"Plushies? Granger, your Muggle language is beyond odd."

"Plushy is an Americanized word for stuffed animal. See, what you do is…"

"Stuffed animals?" he cried. "And Muggles call us barbaric! You actually take living animals and stuff them? With what? How?" His head was suddenly filled with images of Hermione kneeling in front of a dog, shoving stuffing into the animal's mouth.

"Goodness Malfoy, no, no, I would _never_ stuff an animal; that's called taxidermy and yes, it is very barbaric. About as foul as the treatment of House Elves used to be." He could see that she wanted to continue, that she wanted to rage and nag, but that she was holding back. She didn't give him a chance to wonder why before she continued, "Stuffed animals are fake versions of animals. For example, you take a cloth, like silk. You cut it and shape it into the body of an animal and then you take cotton stuffing. You put the stuffing into the animal, sew it shut, and you have a miniature version of the animal."

"So…they're not _real_ animals?"

She chuckled loudly as the carriage stopped. "No, Malfoy. They're fake. Muggle children love them."

"Really?" He descended from the carriage, waiting for her to climb down. "Why?"

"Because they're soft, gentle, and very comforting. They make children feel secure." She clambered out and moved to the front, pulling a plastic bag out from her pocket. Facing the Thestral, she opened the bag and carefully, without touching it, managed to pull out half of a piece of raw chicken. She had, before exiting her room, called a House Elf and had politely asked for it.

"What are you doing?"

She reached up to the Thestral, placing the meat in front of its mouth. "I'm feeding him, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Why?"

She frowned in Draco's direction before smiling as the Thestral gladly took the meat. "I'm thanking him. He brought us here and it's only fair that we thank him."

He furrowed his brows, watching as she reached up and gently patted the Thestral's snout. "Do you always keep raw meat in your pocket?"

Her lips twitched; a cross between a smile and a grimace formed on her face as she counted to rub the animal's head. "I called a House Elf and asked for one. Used the Floo powder I had in my room."

"You have a fireplace in your room?"

She turned to face him, giving the animal one more rub before pulling away. It nosed at her shoulder for a moment, yearning for more of her attention, but she gave it a gentle smile and patted it one last time before moving over to Draco. "Yes, don't you?"

"Why do you get a fireplace and I don't?" he cried with indignation. "I deserve one just as much as you do!"

Hermione shrugged, moving forward and past him, towards the center of Hogsmeade. "I suppose they felt I deserved it more than you. It's a new addition, by the way, seeing as it was never mentioned in _Hogwarts: A History_."

"I don't care if it was or was not mentioned in a book. All I care about is that you have a fireplace in your room and I don't!" Draco stomped childishly after her, fighting the urge to pout.

She bit back her giggles, knowing that it would only further irritate him. Even though he was a changed man, he still acted spoiled and childish at the silliest of things, fireplaces included.

"Well," she said after a moment, wanting to ease his irritation and spend the day with someone her age, not ten years younger, "maybe you have something in your room that I don't. Another window, extra closet space…"

"My closet is rather big…" he muttered thoughtfully, still following her.

Rolling her eyes, knowing he couldn't see it, she led him into the nearest store. She'd been pleasantly surprised when she found this little gem in the middle of Hogsmeade, a quaint shop catering to whatever holiday that was taking place at the time. When she had found it, it had been swamped in Halloween merchandise. Now it was consumed with Christmas and Hanukkah decorations.

"And my closet is awfully small," Hermione added, picking up a basket that hovered beside her as she shopped. "There you go; you have something that I don't."

"Not exactly," he pointed out, ignoring her as she looked at some stuffed snowmen. "Technically, we have the same thing, only mine's better."

"Well, yes, that's true," she agreed, moving down an aisle to check out the Christmas lights.

"But mine is better than yours." He leaned forward, surprising her as he yanked out a row of Luminescent Blinking Bulbs from the shelf, examining the merchandise and price before placing it in the basket, soon to be joined by four more rows.

Momentarily shocked at his sudden and strange action, she blinked a couple of times before her feet returned to earth and she glanced over at him.

"I thought you hated Christmas," she blurted out.

"I don't care for it." He looked over a shelf stocked full with Everlasting Icicles.

"Then why are you helping me find Christmas decorations?"

He glanced at her, their earlier discussion about fireplaces and closets completely forgotten when he saw the shock in her doe eyes. He had to admit; even he didn't know what compelled him to suddenly help her. Normally, he would be grumbling and cursing, refusing to even walk into a place like this, but, with her, he couldn't help it.

"You like all of this stuff, don't you?"

"Well…I…y…yes…yes I do," she stammered, clearly at a loss for words.

"And you want all of this stuff in our Tower, don't you?" He arched a brow this time, patiently waiting for her response.

"Y…Yes…that would be nice…very nice." She swallowed thickly, almost fearing where this might go.

"Well," he sighed, "it is my duty to ensure that you do not make our Tower look like a bloody circus."

Definitely at a loss for words, she simply let her mouth gape as he went back to searching for the right Everlasting Icicles, blinking rapidly as she tried to find some semblance of reason in order to comprehend what he had just said.

"You…you don't mind …you truly don't mind that I'm decorating?"

Sighing heavily, he picked up a few – _No drip, no cold, the perfect decoration for your home! _– and placed them into the hovering basket. "I would if I didn't have a say in anything." He glanced briefly at the warning label, finding it amusing: _Warning: are very pointy and can cause injury. Do not put in eyes, ears, nose, mouth, navel and genitalia._ "Who the fuck would put an Everlasting Icicle in their cunt?"

Every ounce of air in Hermione's mouth became very, very dangerous at that moment, as she was seized by a coughing fit so violent that tears streamed down her face. Her cheeks reddened, throat constricting as she fought for air and reason when all she wanted to do was shout and laugh at the same time.

"Granger? You're not going to die on me, are you?"

Heaving loudly, both hands placed on her chest, she felt her heart hammering against her ribs. Her breath rattled loudly, dry throat slowly opening to let her lungs fill with air as she battled for the ability to speak.

'_I can't believe he said such a foul word! I can't believe I found that funny!'  
_

Fighting back another coughing fit, she wiped at her tears, hitting her chest a few times – not that it did anything – and took in a slow, deep breath in an attempt to relax her body.

"Oh…in the name of Merlin…Malfoy! You are so crude at times!" she cried, resisting the urge to smack him and burst into a fit giggles.

"But it's true!" he replied, placing a few boxes into the basket. "I don't see why anyone would shove this thing in their cunt or arse. It looks like it would hurt like a bitch."

"My oh my," she gasped, still trying catch enough breath to speak properly. "I…I understand your thoughts on it, but do you have to use such…crude language?"

He had made his way over to a display of garland, oblivious to her battle against laughter. Pausing as he examined the prices, he glanced over to her, arching his brows so high they almost disappeared in his hairline.

"Are you trying to reprimand me?"

The words…

A brilliant blush covered her cheeks and she buried her face into her scarf, waving her hands around erratically. Her heart pattered loudly in her chest as embarrassment flooded her system.

She pushed back the sudden strange feelings swamping her body, replacing them with embarrassment and annoyance.

The words had sounded so…

Oh Merlin, she felt her face flush even darker, the words echoing strangely in her mind, sending the oddest of electrical pulses throughout her body, stopping somewhere in her abdomen.

What was happening to her?

"Granger?"

He cocked his head, watching as she blushed and moved wildly, mouthing silent words as she buried her face in her jacket.

Why the hell was she embarrassed? He hadn't said anything crude this time, nor had he said anything remotely insulting. So why was she acting the way she was?

"What the hell is wrong with you, Granger? Are you having some kind of seizure?" he asked, frowning in confusion.

"I…I…uh, no…not at all." She swallowed thickly, trying to push back the embarrassment and odd sensations, just barely succeeding. "I…sorry about that…forget that ever happened." She rubbed her face with her hand, hoping that he would stop staring long enough for her to gather her thoughts and sanity.

Pursing his lips, wanting desperately to gain some answers, he sighed softly in defeat. "Fine, but only for now." He turned back to the garland, picking out a packet of silver ones. "So…were you reprimanding me for my crude language or not?"

"No!"

Frowning, he spun around, garland in hand, to watch her bury her face in her scarf a second time, flushed from her forehead to her chin.

Moving slowly forward, he pulled the basket away from her as she began to move her hands wildly again. Placing the garland in it, he watched as she stammered wordlessly.

"Granger…you've gone mental, haven't you?"

"I…no I have not!" she cried, cheeks burning bright. "I…it's just…" She drifted off, swallowing thickly and fighting desperately for some sense of control over her body and emotions. What was it about those words and Draco's smirk that made her flush so? Why did it make butterflies flutter in her stomach and her heart pound erratically in her chest?

Maybe she was mental…

"I was not reprimanding you!" she nearly shouted, wanting to get the words out and the weird feelings out of her body.

He took an involuntary step back, wondering vaguely if she was going through PMS of some sort. Just this day alone, she had gone from sad to happy, confidant to embarrassed, in a matter of seconds. He knew that his mother had a tendency to do that whenever she was pre-Bitch Week. He recalled that his mother would sometimes throw things in a fit of rage and then, suddenly, she was smiling and happy, as though the expensive china was not strewn all over the floor.

It was the only time his father actually feared her; he was not able to control her during that time.

Maybe he should distract her…

"I thought it'd be nice to get some gold garland, too."

'_I am currently a walking fail-boat. Good job, Draco. Distract her with bloody garland…that's the most epic fail I've ever heard of.'_

"Really?"

His eyes widened with surprise as the blush faded from her face and her amber orbs lit up. He watched as all awkwardness and tension disappeared from her body and she resumed a normal stance and tone of voice.

'_Maybe I'm not a fail-boat. But Granger is definitely mental.'_

"I…uh…well, yes." He turned to grab a packet of gold garland and tossed it into the basket. "I thought that it would be a nice contrast. I mean, aren't silver and gold Christmas colours or something? I know the colours are all over the school during this time and…"

"Yeah, they're Christmas colours," Hermione piped in, saving him from embarrassing his arse off. She looked down at the mixture of colours in the basket, having put in a few more packets of garland. "It's funny."

"What is?" he asked as they walked on in search of Christmas balls and various tree ornaments.

"The main Christmas colours; they're red and green, silver and gold." She reached up, grabbing a box of glass balls.

"What's so funny about it?" He swiftly grabbed the packet it from her, pointed to the prices before she argued and grabbed the one that was cheaper per ball and definitely a better product.

"Our house colours are the same," she pointed out, grabbing a box of Rainbow Powder – _It makes the room glow with the colours of the rainbow! We have, for a limited time, blue, green, and red!_

"Hm." He wasn't impressed. It was just mere coincidence that their house colours were the same as the main Christmas colours. "They probably set it up so have two less tables to decorate."

"That could be true. I just found it funny that you're Slytherin and I'm Gryffindor and our house colours combined are very…Christmassy."

"If you're trying to persuade me into liking Christmas because green is a Christmas colour, I'm going to let you know that it won't work. I also happen to like black and blue." He rolled his eyes, facing her, determination set in his face. "Besides, Granger, you need to remember that I'm only here with you because I don't want our Common Room looking like a clown blew up in it. Christmas is not special in any way or form."

She saw his grey eyes harden, his lips thin as stubbornness was etched in his features. This was one thought, one particular topic, that he would never back down on. She knew that he didn't care for Christmas, but he also used to hate snow, didn't he?

Nodding slowly, she silently turned back to her work, gnawing on her lower lip as she thought over everything.

He hated Christmas…

He never had a real Christmas before...

So she wanted to give him the perfect Christmas…

Why?

She mentally debated as she picked out a few more decorations. Was Ron right? Did she just want to make everyone feel good so that, at the end of the day, she felt better about herself? Was this all some way for her to relieve her mind and remove the pity she felt towards Draco?

Was this really about giving _him_ the right Christmas or was it a ploy to selfishly make _her _feel and look better?

She'd always tried being nice in the past, even when she wanted to erupt in fury. She'd always tried to smile and make everyone else happy, wanting to see them smile and allow it to make her body heat with comforting warmth.

Was it all because she enjoyed that warmth? Because she loved feeling content at the end of the day? Or was it really about the person she was helping?

Resisting the urge to rub her face in frustration, Hermione placed, none-to-gently, a pack of bulbs into her basket. She felt like her mind was being torn apart at times, with the frustration of her failing friendships, the increasing intimacy of her relationship with Draco, and everything else combined.

Sometimes, she realized, she tried to do too much.

But this was important, for her and Draco. Giving him the best possible Christmas would, yes, ease her pity, but she wanted to make someone else happy. She wanted to see him smile again, to see his eyes glow and his cheeks to flush with joy.

It made her feel warm and secure.

"Granger, are you even listening to me?"

She looked over to the man of her reveries, shaking away her thoughts as she pushed herself back into the present time. "Sorry, I zoned out for a second. You were saying?"

Rolling his eyes, he sighed in annoyance and resisted the urge to reply with a biting remark. "I wanted to know what you planned on doing with these Christmas tree decorations."

It was her turn to roll her eyes at his lack of common sense. "Isn't it obvious? I plan on getting a Christmas tree."

Frowning, he narrowed his eyes. "You actually want a bloody tree in our Tower? Some tree that we have to water and take care of and decorate?"

"Well, yes," she shrugged, quickly grabbing a few stems of mistletoe while he was distracted. She knew that he would not appreciate the little plants in the Tower, but she loved them. It was just for decoration, she reminded herself, not because she wanted an excuse to kiss the blond. "I love Christmas trees. The smell, the way they glow when they're decorated, how they just liven up a room and act as a center piece. Besides, where else do you want us to put our presents?"

"Presents?" He choked, nearly dropping a poinsettia.

"Yes. Gifts from our families. I asked the Headmistress if it were possible to, instead of sending them to the end of our beds, have them placed under the Christmas tree. She said that it was all right; it makes life just a bit easier on the House Elves."

"Oh." The blush that had flooded his face faded considerably. Tugging uncomfortably at his scarf, he placed the flower in the basket. "Well…I suppose it shouldn't be too hard to levitate a tree into the Tower."

"Who said anything about levitating?" she asked, putting a few more flowers – holly and poinsettia – into the basket, glad that it had been charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm.

"Granger…are you asking for a row, because I will give you a bloody row," he growled, eyes narrowing as he realized just what she meant. "I am not carrying a bloody tree through the whole damn school just because you want to."

"I don't want to levitate it. It ruins the whole process. I loved helping my dad carry in the tree when I was old enough to help. It was our only real tradition," she admitted as they made their way to the cash. "My parents were always very busy, with conferences and work, so we didn't get to spend a lot of time decorating the house or doing a lot of family traditions. Just helping my dad carry in the tree and decorating it with my mom was my favourite thing during the holiday. Then, when I was old enough, I started baking whenever I was home for the holidays. Mum didn't really like it; when I started, I always made a mess."

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at her words. She'd been able to spend her Christmas with her family, decorating and laughing, enjoying the time of year with her loved ones. He had never had a Christmas tree in his home; they were uncouth and useless. He never got to help his mother decorate in any way or form, never got to laugh and smile with his family.

It hurt to realize and acknowledge this. It hurt him, making his stomach twist uncomfortably as his heart knotted in pain. He resisted the urge to scream and cry, to tell her how lucky she was to have experienced such beautiful Christmases…to have had a loving and caring family. To have a father that never abused her mother, to have a mother who was free to smile and laugh, and to live in an atmosphere of acceptance and love.

He clenched his hands into tight fists, glancing down at his feet as he pushed back the melancholic emotions that threatened to swamp him. It hurt…it hurt so much…

"Malfoy? Are you all right?"

He looked up, eyes boring into her amber ones, and he felt a small amount of tension leave his body. Her whiskey eyes were wide and glowed with compassion, finely plucked brows knitted as her full lips pursed in worry.

He knew that he didn't deserve the best Christmas; he was no Saint, not someone who deserved the best in life…but she…

She deserved it…she deserved to spend this time laughing and loving, she deserved to be able to decorate and create pleasant memories and he realized that he should not be the one to ruin her Christmas because he never had one.

He would help her carry that stupid tree, he would help her decorate that bloody Tower, and he would let her bake, if it meant that she could laugh and be happy.

He wanted to dwell on why making her happy was his main priority, but he wouldn't dare do such a thing in public. It hurt to push it back, bothered him to remove the thoughts from his mind and hide them in a crevice, but it had to be done.

"It's nothing, Granger." He unclenched his fists.

She cocked a brow at him, unconvinced by his words, but turned back to the cash nonetheless.

They walked out of the store, carrying one bag charmed like the baskets, and she lead him to a nearby shop, where she purchased Ginny's gift. They then headed for the Three Broomsticks to enjoy warm Butterbeer. They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the atmosphere, listening to the various conversations around them as they drank and relaxed. His tension had completely faded and her worry had disappeared.

Before leaving, she asked for information on Christmas trees and was pleasantly surprised to find out that Hogsmeade did, indeed, have a Christmas tree vendor. Draco wanted to protest the whole walk over but he bit back all remarks and retorts, not wanting to start a row in the middle of Hogsmeade.

"Malfoy," she said suddenly, halfway to the location.

"Hm?" He diverted his gaze from the buildings to the woman beside him.

"I was wondering…what kind of Christmas gifts do you usually receive?"

He cocked a brow at her, unable to figure out why she asked such an odd question. It didn't occur to him that, maybe, she was fishing for ideas; no one, aside from his family and Pansy, had ever bought him Christmas gifts.

Shrugging, he figured that he would be able to, at least, answer this Christmas-like question without unearthing any horrid memories. The presents had never been unpleasant and his mother had always managed to sneak into his room to open their gifts together.

It was the one truly happy memory he had of Christmas.

"My gifts were always very expensive," he replied. "Father thought that I only deserved the best and always bought the best. I never got any toys; father would buy me a broomstick, some expensive robes or clothes, expensive quills, everything was very expensive and not to be played with."

"You never got anything to play with? No toys, no games, nothing of the like?" she asked, no longer shocked by his answers. She had braced herself for this answer, told herself that it was the likeliest of answers he would give considering the circumstances.

"There was one year where he bought me an expensive chess set, but that's as far as toys and games go." He shrugged. "Like I said, toys and games were not the best for me. Malfoys didn't play games and certainly did not have toys."

"So," she said softly, "I suppose that it's safe to assume that you never received any sentimental gifts?"

He laughed; a sharp bark that was filled with anything but joy. "Let's just say that sentimentality was never my father's strong point."

She wanted to say something, to apologize that he had never received anything sentimental or loving, but she was distracted by their arrival to the Christmas tree lot.

They searched among the pines for a while, looking for the nicest tree. She kept muttering quiet curses to herself for being unprepared; she should have measured the ceiling and figured out where they were putting the tree.

"How about this one?"

She looked over to where Draco stood, gawking at the mammoth tree the blond was pointing at. "Do you have any idea of how _huge_ that tree is?"

He shrugged. "I think it looks nice."

"If you want to cut it in half to fit it in the Tower, sure," she replied.

"But it is the most expensive and the expensive ones are always the best," he added.

She rolled her eyes and asked him the price. When he stated it, her eyes widened with shock as her mouth gaped. "That it too expensive for a damn tree!"

"But Granger, I am a Malfoy and Malfoys always deserve the best," he replied cockily.

"I don't care if you are the Minister of bloody Magic, I refuse to spend that much on a tree!" She made a loud, incomprehensible noise of frustration before heading off to look at more trees.

Arching a brow after her, he shrugged and exhaled softly, following the irked brunette. They argued a few more times on the prices before Draco finally insisted that he would pay for it if she deemed it too expensive. This resulted in another childish row that he, _finally_, wound up winning.

With victory on his side, he strode through the lot with renewed confidence as she cursed and muttered threats behind him.

"Is this one to your liking, Granger?"

She stopped in her tracks, nearly walking into him when he suddenly paused. Peering around his shoulder, she looked at the one he was pointing at. It was tall but not too tall; it would fit into the Common Room. While it was still wrapped in mesh, she could tell that the pines were soft and fresh and that it would be full and lovely once it opened. Reaching out, she looked at the tag with the price and sighed softly.

"It's still a bit expensive."

"We already agreed that I would pay for it; I have more than enough money," he replied. "Do you like it or not?"

"Well…yes…it's lovely but…Wait. What are you doing?"

He had pulled out his wand, waving it and levitating the tree, making his way over to the man at the front of the lot. Ignoring her protests as she trudged after him, he paid for the tree and began making his way out of the lot.

"Malfoy!" she cried, rushing after him as fast as she could in the snow. "What…why did you pay for it?"

He paused, allowing her to catch up and pant beside him. Turning to look at her, he shrugged lightly. "You liked it so I bought it. Wasn't this the whole point in buying one? Getting one you liked so that we could decorate it?"

"I…what? You actually cared about which one I liked?" she gawked.

"Well, yes." He shrugged again, making his way back to the carriages, tree still levitating in front of him.

"Why?"

"I decided that, while I simply cannot stand this damn holiday season, I'll be reasonable and help you as much as I can." They arrived at the carriages and he lifted the tree on top of it, muttering a spell to create ropes that wrapped around the tree and kept it in place.

"But…what…why?" she stammered, stopping in her tracks, rooted to the spot.

He paused halfway into the carriage, turning to look back at her. "I don't feel like spending my whole holiday arguing with you. It would be easier if I just went along with you and helped out a bit. That way, I won't spend the whole holiday worrying about you burning down the Tower or making it look like a colour blind Weasel decorated it."

She choked on any response she had prepared, standing and gaping at him, unable to comprehend just what had transpired.

"Granger, are you getting into the carriage or not?" he sighed heavily.

"I…uh…oh, yes, yes, sure," she stammered, climbing in after him.

Her eyes watched the landscape as they traveled but her mind was elsewhere, wondering just what was going on in a certain blond's head.

* * *

"Granger, do we really have to carry this bloody thing?"

"Yes, we do," she sighed loudly. "We levitated it through the entrance because I didn't feel like listening to you bitch the whole way, the least you could do is help me carry it the rest of the way."

"But Malfoys do not carry Christmas trees!" he cried with indignation, the said object currently in his arms.

"Well now you do," she snapped, holding the front end of the tree. "Now stop your bitching so that we can make our way to the Tower. We're almost there."

"I refuse to carry this thing any further! I feel like a bloody fool!"

"You're going to look like one too when I shoved this thing up your arse."

"You wouldn't dare," he hissed.

"Remember, Malfoy, I have the Everlasting Icicles too," she waved her right arm, flashing the bag hanging around her elbow. "I can use them, too."

He snarled something incomprehensible at her, cursing their situation and the damn Muggle method of bringing trees into homes. They stood in the middle of an empty hallway, having spent the past ten minutes arguing, unable to move forward or backward. He had already dealt with the stares that various students had given them and had cursed loudly after Dennis Creevey, who had taken it upon himself to follow in his brothers footsteps.

The damn brat had taken a picture of Draco and Hermione carrying the tree.

"You better watch what you say Malfoy, or I promise that these Icicles will find a new home in your arse," she retorted furiously.

They managed to make their way down the rest of the corridor, nearing their destination, when Draco huffed loudly.

"This is nonsense!" he cried. "It is unthinkable! Carrying a tree when we can easily use magic to make it levitate! I feel like a bloody Muggle! I refuse to go any further like this!"

"Argh!" she cried, letting go her end of the tree to spin around and curse at him. She was sick and tired of his bitching and moaning, frustrated that he had barely kept his damn promise to make things easier on her.

The front end landed on the ground with a thud, sending needles everywhere as Draco struggled to keep it up. He was pulled down by the weight and suddenness of Hermione's actions, landing in a sprawled heap on the ground.

"Granger," he growled, looking up at her through his mussed hair, "you're going to pay for that."

"If you had stopped your whining and complaining, then I would not have let go of the damn thing!" she shouted, towering over him. "You say that you'll make things easier, you say all of this crap and then you go ahead and make things harder!"

"If you had just agreed to levitate the damn thing, then we wouldn't be in this situation," he retorted. "We would be in the damn Tower, tree already set up, and making our way down to the Great Hall!"

"You are so bloody frustrating! I don't know why I put up with you!"

"Me? _I'm_ frustrating? I'm not the one who wants to carry a bloody tree through the whole damn school!" He scrambled to his feet.

She poked angrily at his chest. "Yes you! You…you are so irresponsible and childish!"

"I'm childish? I'm not the one who likes to go out and play in the snow like some five-year-old!" He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling it away from his chest.

"I'm not the one who whines like a two-year-old because I can't get my bloody way!" She dropped the bag, poking at him with her other hand.

He grabbed her other hand, holding both her wrists tightly. "I do _not_ whine like a two-year-old. You always sulk and bitch whenever you can't get some bloody answers. At least I'm not some nosey prat."

"I am _not_ nosey!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Ooooh, lookies at what we have here!"

"Go away Peeves, I don't feel like dealing with you right now," Draco snapped at the poltergeist. "I'll set the Bloody Baron on you."

The poltergeist simply hovered nearby, cackling with glee at the sight of the argument. He loved the way the pine needles were strewn across the floor, the way it made a mess on the usually pristine floors of Hogwarts. He loved the sight and sound of the two arguing students.

But, what he loved most of all was what he pointed at above their heads.

"Mistletoe!"

**Today's recipe is:**

**Cocoa Sugar Cookies**

**Ingredients:**

**¾ cup unsalted butter, softened1 cup granulated sugar**

**1 egg1 tsp vanilla2 ¼ cup all-purpose flour**

**1/3 cup cocoa powder½ tsp baking powder¼ tsp salt**

**In large bowl, beat butter with sugar until fluffy; beat in egg and vanilla. In separate bowl, whisky together flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and salt; stir into butter mixture in 2 additions to make smooth dough. Divide in half and flatten into discs; wrap each and refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour.**

**On floured surface, roll out each disc to 1/4 inch thickness. Using cutter or template, cut out shapes, rerolling scraps and chilling dough before cutting again. Place, 1 inch apart, on parchment paper-lined pans. Freeze for 15 minutes or refrigerate for 30 minutes or until firm.**

**Bake in 350 F (180 C) oven until edges begin to darken, 20 to 25 minutes. Transfer to racks; let cool. **

**Today's recipe was brought to you by Canadian Living, December 2008, page 176. **

**So…I wasn't planning on doing a mistletoe scene until later, but this suddenly popped up. I like the setting for it. I always like the idea of them kissing after arguing. But don't worry, they're not completely falling in love yet!!!**

**Concerning reviews:**

**Flames = fuel the flame of love growing between Draco and Hermione**

**Constructive criticism = very much welcome. I also welcome any reviewers who point out errors or mistakes I have made. Just write them out in the review and make sure that you point out there it is. **

**Adoration = very, very, very much welcome. With every review, my ego grows. And yes, all of you who give me reviews of adoration will receive cookies and brownies and love.**

**Next chapter: how will Hermione and Draco get out of their predicament?**

**Thank you for reading!**


	10. The Mistletoe Predicament

**Warning: humour ahead! Oh no!**

**Warning #2: small spoiler ahead, 'round middle of the chapter. I am not putting in some damn A/N thing where I got "ZOMG! LIKES SPOILER ALERTS!!!" sorry, it just breaks the flow and I refuse to do that. So, you are warned now. If you have not read DH (which makes me ask you WHY) then read at your own risk.  
**

**Chapter 9**

**The Mistletoe Predicament**

_"_Mistletoe! Mistletoe! Students under the mistletoe!"

"Peeves, I swear, I will set the Baron on you and you will regret ever crossing my path," Draco snarled furiously.

"How? How do you expect to do that you can't move?" Peeves cackled joyfully, hovering and flying around the couple, laughing hysterically. "Ahaha! You can't move! The mistletoe won't let you until you kiss! Kissy-kissy-kissy!"

"I'll send him my bloody Patronus!" Draco shouted, eyes flashing dangerously, moving his gaze from Hermione to the annoying poltergeist.

The poltergeist stopped, pausing beside the couple as he took in Draco's face. Normally the being would not believe a word the blond said, normally he was slow to understand and lacked common sense, but the fury in the blond's eyes made him fear the living being.

"Going now!" he cried, flying off to torture some other poor students in the castle.

Draco let go of Hermione's wrists to rub his face in frustration, fearing what would happen if he dared look above his head. His frustration directed towards the woman before him turned towards the damn poltergeist. The bloody thing had probably been attracted by their argument and had decided to put the damn sprig above their heads.

"Is it really there?" he groaned, fearing the worst.

Hermione's frustration, too, faded just enough for her to worry about what this might mean if the mistletoe were there. Slowly, she tilted her head back and scowled vehemently.

"Unfortunately," she spat.

"Great!" he snarled through his fingers.

"Can't we just ignore it?" she asked.

This made him lower his hands and look at her in shock. Hermione Granger didn't know about the mistletoe spell? Hermione Granger, the witch who knew every single bloody spell in the world, did not know about magical mistletoe?

Well, this certainly was enlightening.

"We can't just walk away," he replied.

"Why not?"

"Don't say it like it's my fault," he snapped. "There's a fucking charm on it! Whenever two people meet under the damn thing, they cannot move from the spot until they kiss."

"Oh…" She looked from him to the mistletoe and back to him before frustration made its way back to her face, twisting her features. "It is your fault!"

"My fault?" he gawked, eyes hardening. "It's your bloody fault you decided to carry this damn tree! If we had just levitated the thing, we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"Ha!" she barked. "If you hadn't spent the whole time bitching, then we wouldn't be here! We would already be back in the Tower and setting it up!"

"If you hadn't let go of the fucking thing, we wouldn't be here!" he shouted, gesturing angrily with his hands.

"Well if you learnt to shut your trap and deal with stuff then I wouldn't have gotten annoyed!" She stabbed him in the chest with her finger.

"If you could learn to control your temper we wouldn't be here!"

"Argh! I can't stand you!"

"And I can't stand you!" He stepped closer, towering over her.

"I refuse to kiss you and your disgusting mouth!"

"Likewise!"

They huffed loudly, spinning on the spot, turning their backs to each other. Hermione crossed her arms angrily over her chest, thinking of various ways to hex the blond into oblivion. Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, muttering a myriad of curses directed towards the brunette.

It took several minutes for them to calm their breathing and slow their heart rates, both uttering crude words of frustration as they tried to ease their tempers.

Draco could be so…childish and irrational at times. He whined and complained and bitched…she couldn't see why she had even wanted to stay with him in the first place!

Hermione was a bloody nosey know-it-all; she _always_ had to be right, _always_ had to have things her way, and was always going out of her way to annoy the shit out of him. Why he even enjoyed her company, he had no idea.

She wanted to charm away all of his clothes save his boxers, steal his wand, and leave him here to carry the damn tree all by himself!

He wanted to turn around and give her a good punch to the ovaries. That would teach her.

Frustrated beyond belief, Hermione took a step forward, intending to curse him and do as she planned. She stopped in her tracks, finding some kind of invisible wall in front of her. It was as though something was refusing to let her out, pulling her back towards the mistletoe and the blond git behind her.

"Told you it won't let us leave."

"Oh, shut your mouth and stop with the snide remarks," she snapped, spinning around with the intent to kick him in the back of knees.

"You even think about hitting me, I _will _kiss you," he threatened.

"You wouldn't dare." She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the strange fluttering in her stomach at his threat.

"I would dare," he replied, turning around to face her. "And it would be on the lips too." He ignored the tingling sensation that went through his body at the thought.

"Ha! Like you would kiss my dirty mouth."

"I think I have enough mouthwash in my room."

"Oh! You prat!" She swung out, punching him in the arm. "I hate you!"

"Same to you, Granger," he spat. "You're lucky I don't hit women or…"

"Or what? You would hit me?"

"I would kick you in the fucking vagina!"

"Then I would kick you in the balls. If you even have anything down there."

"Oh, Granger, a lack-of-balls insult. You wound me so!"

She punched him in the arm a second time. "You're so childish!"

"Me? I'm not the one threatening to kick someone in the balls!"

"You threatened to kick my vagina!" she cried with indignation, oblivious to the hilarity of the situation.

"I can't stand you! You're a whiny, nosey bitch!"

"Well, I can't stand you either, you arrogant, pig-headed prat!"

Again, they spun around, Draco crossing his arms, Hermione shoving her hands into her pockets, and they mentally cursed each other until barely satisfied.

This time, however, they remained in the position for quite some time, unable to turn around and restart the row they had 'finished' not long ago. She huffed out her breath, furious at the blond for causing them to be stuck in this situation. He muttered a curse, enraged at their situation.

Her mind, once her temper eased enough, began to work at a way to fool the spell. There had to be some way to get out of this predicament without actually having to kiss the prat. She feared that her lips would burn off if she was forced to kiss him. There wasn't enough mouthwash in the world to eradicate his foul taste.

"Can't we…kiss each other on the cheek?"

He sighed heavily, wishing that she could catch on faster. "No, Granger, we can't."

"Why? It counts as a kiss, doesn't it?"

"There are various kinds of kisses," he explained. "According to the spell placed on the mistletoe, a kiss on the cheek counts as familial kiss."

"Which means?"

"Are you daft or just playing dumb? The mistletoe only allows family members to kiss each other on the cheek. If anyone tries to kiss someone other than a family member on the cheek as a way to break the spell, it doesn't work. The kiss has to be on the lips."

"Well, I refuse to you kiss you."

"And I refuse to kiss you!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

They exchanged positions, Draco shoving his hands into his pockets, Hermione crossing her arms as they huffed angrily in unison. There seemed to be no end to their frustration.

Sighing furiously, she realized that there would be no end to their stubbornness and determination; they were, she hated to admit, very much alike in those areas. Rubbing her face with her hands, she realized that they could be standing here for quite some time.

Irked, both at herself for her childish stubbornness and at Draco's determination, she sat down Indian style on the floor, keeping her arms crossed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Malfoy? I'm sitting down." She leaned back just enough to glare at him.

He grimaced in return. "I knew that, you smartass. Why are you sitting down?"

"I'm getting comfortable." She rolled her eyes. "We're obviously going to be here for quite some time."

"And why is that?"

"I refuse to kiss you."

"And I refuse to kiss you. But that doesn't mean we can't get out of this," he sighed loudly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You can use the counter-spell."

"And that is?"

"You don't know it?" He gaped at her, unable to understand what he was hearing.

"Obviously or I would've used it already and shoved that bloody tree up your arse," she snapped.

"Fuck!"

"God damn it, Malfoy! Can't you stop swearing for one bloody second?"

"Me?" He bared his teeth at her. "You were the one only moments ago threatening to shove a tree up my arse. And, might I add, you were saying that I was, and I quote, 'bitching'. So don't get all high and mighty up my arse and act like you don't bloody well swear."

"At least I don't sound like a bloody sailor!"

"I do not sound like a sailor!"

"Yes, you do!"

"Well…you sound like American white trailer trash! And you look like it too!"

She reached out and punched him in the kneecap, causing more damage to her hand than to his limb. "Screw you, Malfoy, you probably don't even know what trailer trash is!"

"I do too! It's you!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Granger, just accept it, you're trailer trash."

"Argh! Malfoy, I can't stand you! You're so high and mighty, so bloody pig-headed and arrogant, always in the right, so damn stubborn you make me look like a bloody push-over! If you're so great, so much better than me, how come you don't use the counter-spell?"

A faint blush coated his cheeks and he clenched his fists. "Because I don't know it," he admitted angrily.

She nodded knowingly, as though the whole time she was aware of this fact and was just waiting for him to embarrass himself. "That means we're stuck here until one of us gives in."

"I refuse to give in!" he shouted, standing in some strange and comical triumphant pose, fist in the air, eyes glistening in the faint light. "I will not give in to the damn mistletoe and kiss your ugly face!"

This time, she spun around and, given her angle, kicked him in the shin. He, surprised by the attack, stumbled and fell to one knee, cursing her furiously as he clenched his injured leg.

"You bitch!"

"Oh, shut your foul mouth, Malfoy. Like I want to kiss you, either," she spat. "You probably have warts or some other STI in that filthy mouth."

"You didn't have to kick me!" he cried, clenching and unclenching his fists, resisting the urge to punch her boob.

"Yes, I did! You called me ugly!"

"That's because you are!"

"I am not! I'll have you know that I am far more attractive than Pansy!"

He paused, as though contemplating his answer, before nodding his head just the slightest. "I have to agree with you on that one."

She gaped at him; eyes wide and mouth open as she took in his words. "W…What?"

"You heard me. I agree with you that you _are_ more attractive than Pansy. Then again, so are a lot of other girls in this school…"

She saw the way his eyes hardened at Pansy's name, saw how the tension returned to his body full-force, far stronger than when they had been arguing just seconds ago.

"Malfoy…"

"What?" he snapped.

"I…what happened between Pansy and you yesterday?" Her cheeks warmed with a faint blush.

Sitting back on his bum, he rubbed his shin unconsciously, wondering if this was some ploy to distract him or if she was truly sincere. He wasn't too sure; even when he examined her face for a sign of either one, he couldn't find any indication that she was lying or being honest.

Deciding to entertain her, using this as a way to distract himself from his predicament and avoid further confrontation for now, he rubbed his face.

"We got into a stupid argument."

"About what?"

He cocked a brow. "What does it matter?"

"I'm interested and it's something to pass the time," she pointed out. "Better than arguing and ignoring each other."

He silently agreed with her. "Well…" he sighed loudly, knowing that the conversation was now heading into uncharted territory, "it was about you."

"Me?" she choked, unsure of whether she should blush or not. Her cheeks decided on their own to redden as her stomach flipped. "Why was it about me?"

"She wanted to know about what happened two days ago, when we were outside. Pansy is…very obsessive. I understand that she cares about me but she takes things too far at times, especially since we're far from a couple. She got rather…jealous at the idea of you and I building snowmen."

"But why? It was just snowmen, we didn't really do anything that might make people think we're more than friends," she blurted out, unable to understand what he was getting at. Hermione, while the brightest witch her age, still had some difficulties understanding the mechanics of the human mind. She understood some things but not everything.

"Like I said, Pansy is extremely obsessive and possessive. When she sinks her claws into something, she sinks them really deep. I just happened to be that something. She got jealous, very jealous, at the idea of me outside with another girl. Especially since she has been trying to convince me for forever to go outside and play with her." His cheeks mottled red when Hermione blushed brightly. "In the snow, Granger, in the _snow_. Like we did. Not…in any sexual sense or anything…"

She coughed loudly, clearing her throat before facing him. "I…I get it, don't worry."

"All right," he mumbled, rubbing his throat at the sudden awkwardness. "Anyway…she got really angry and started spewing out all of this stuff. Very offensive things, actually," he admitted. "I'd rather not say, to be honest, but I suppose you have an idea of what Pansy would say about you."

Hermione slowly nodded, knowing that _Mudblood_ would be the first insult Pansy would use. "What did you do?" She was almost afraid of the answer, afraid that he had agreed with Pansy, even more terrified that he had defended her.

The thought of him defending her made her stomach twist uncomfortably, sending the strange warmth rushing through her body as an odd, electrical tingling sensation went through her veins. She didn't like it; it was weird and new, and she didn't like weird things happening to her body. It confused her…it reminded her that she wasn't as in control as she liked to be.

"I told her that she was wrong," he said softly, hugging his knees to his body. "I was sick and tired of her ranting and bitching. What she said was wrong; it's not right to say things like that. I know it sounds almost hypocritical of me to say this, especially since I abused that word when I was younger, but…at least I grew up."

She nodded slowly, understanding just what he was trying to say. "You don't have to say any more…"

"But I do," he admitted. "I do…I…I never really got to say this, never had a chance to say it in the past three years." He ran a hand through his hair, weariness and stress etching his face, making him appears decades older. The scar stood out brightly on his pale cheek, a reminder of horrible times and darkness.

"I wasn't always the brightest kid when it came to common sense. I could easily blame my upbringing for a lot of my thoughts but, once you reach a certain age, you should know the difference between right and wrong on your own. When I reached that age, I distorted my view of right and wrong. I purposely ignored the difference; I was arrogant and selfish, I thought of myself as superior and everyone else was inferior. I was childish and rude and said a lot of things I regret. You didn't deserve my cruelty and I only realized that recently. I grew up during the war; I finally realized what I was doing, how wrong I had been.

"The war changed us, all of us. Some people, it changed for the worse, but it did change others for the better. Goyle and Zabini, for example, changed for the better. I won't go into details," he added. "I know that I grew up…I reconsidered my thoughts of right and wrong, I reexamined myself and my thoughts, and spent the past four years reorganizing every part of my thinking. Everything I thought was right before had been obliterated. I…I'm not the same person I used to be," he admitted softly. "I'm not perfect, but I'm working on it. There's still some of the old me in there," he tapped his head, "but, I like to think that there's enough of the new me to overpower it."

Hermione listened to every word, taking in everything he said, understanding what he meant to say. He wasn't the same person he used to be but he wasn't completely reformed. He was still stubborn, was still arrogant, but at least he had a proper sense of right and wrong. He knew what was right to say and what should be left unsaid. He accepted everyone as his equal and even though sometimes he was pig-headed and superior in thoughts or actions, she knew that he actually thought otherwise.

Draco Malfoy, she realized, had changed and was still changing and it would take a long time before the teachings of his father and his misguided thoughts were completely destroyed.

"I understand," she said softly. "The war…it changed a lot of us. We're a lot more cynical, we find enjoying things harder to do; we've all grown up very fast in the past few years. Everyone forgets that, really, we're just children. I may be twenty but I'm still a child. We still have some misguided thoughts, some people more so than others, but at least we have people like you, making an effort to change their ways of thinking." She smiled at him. "It's nice to know that."

He nodded slowly, feeling a faint blush creeping over his cheeks at her kind words. He had never spoken these thoughts to anyone before, not even Zabini or Goyle, his closest friends. He hated the way he used to be, hated the way he used to treat everyone around him, and he wanted to change things for the better.

It was a long process but, he was happy to realize, he was changing. That was all that mattered. He was progressing.

"So…what did Pansy say when you told her that she was wrong?"

He looked up at the brunette, saw the way her mind was working away in her eyes, saw how she was thinking over his words, how she was contemplating their situation and his confession. He saw everything in her eyes; her soul was exposed to him and she didn't even know it.

It made his heart jump erratically and he wasn't sure if it was with joy or another odd emotion.

Swallowing thickly, he unconsciously hugged his knees closer. "She got really upset, started shouting all of these things, kept calling you that word, and I got fed up. I told her that I was sick of her and didn't want to be seen with her anymore. I thought she was going to slap me." He chuckled at the memory of Hermione slapping him back in third year. "Then she just ran off. To be honest, I could care less. She hasn't spoken to me since and life has been better without her."

"I suppose she still has some growing up to do, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, she needs to mature a lot more than the rest of us. But we really can't do anything; she has to make the changes herself. We can help her, but we can't do anything more than that. It won't happen overnight, either."

"Hopefully what you said will sink in and she'll realize a few things," Hermione said, smiling at the blond before her.

She had never really seen him like this before her, baring his soul out to her without fear. It was odd, new and, she silently admitted, she liked knowing that he didn't mind doing this. It meant that he trusted her enough to tell her everything and let her see just what was going on his mind.

Gooseflesh rose over her, the tingling sensation returning with sudden warmth that filled her veins and made her heart flip with the oddest of emotions. Her stomach jerked, twisting as though a thousand butterflies were fluttering wildly within it. Unconsciously, she rubbed her arms, hugging them close to her chest as she tried to push back the curious sensations.

Draco Malfoy trusted her…

It made her smile, a small one that made her eyes glow with mirth as she contemplated just what it meant.

He trusted her…

"Granger…"

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, a tender and faint whisper in the silence of the corridor. He cocked a brow, ready to reply with a question, when she continued. "That was too kind of you, defending me like that. You could have easily lied, you could have agreed with her, but you didn't. You know…you're a really nice guy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

He was lost for words. His cheeks mottled red with blush and his fingers dug into his shins as he fought the urge to bury his face into his knees. His heart fluttered, pounding excitedly against his chest as it became rather difficult to breathe. His entire body tingled, as though electricity were coursing through him and jolting his nerves.

"I…uh…" He fought for some kind of response as he battled to regain his sanity. "Well…you're welcome, I suppose. But that doesn't mean I'll kiss you."

"Ha, as if," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't get your hopes up."

He rolled his eyes this time, biting back a crude remark. Instead, he blurted out, "What happened this morning?"

Any mirthful tension faded from the air, replaced by an uncomfortable kind that thickened the air and made it difficult to breathe. He watched as she battled various impulses, mentally kicking himself in the arse for being so dumb as to ask her that. He hadn't even meant to ask it; it had just come out. He had been thinking that it was only fair; he poured his heart out to her and now it was her turn, and the words had just come out.

"Why do you care?" she asked softly, cynicism and suspicion hardening her gaze.

"I…well…I noticed you looked upset and, well, it's only fair. I told you about what happened yesterday so, this time, you get to pour your heart out to me." He hoped that this argument would be deemed strong enough for her not to smack him or call him a prat, although, at this point in time, he would prefer another row over anything else.

"Well…I…I suppose you make a good point." Somehow, for the strangest of reasons, a part of her wanted to tell him about this morning. She longed to tell someone about it, to vent about it and have someone understand her as she spoke to them. For the strangest of reasons, she knew that the best person to tell this to was Draco.

It had to be, she tried to convince herself, because of what he had said just moments ago.

"I, well…you see, Ron and I had a row this morning, after breakfast. I just finished saying goodbye to Harry and Ginny when he showed up." She shifted positions, hugging her knees to her chest the same way Draco did. "I was alone and wandless; I'd left it in my room, thinking I didn't need it. Well, he showed up and started saying all of these things. He kept asking me what you had that he didn't. I suppose he, like Pansy, is a little possessive and jealous." She laughed, a hollow sound that hurt to hear. "He said all of these odd things, started making the strangest of claims, saying that I was in…love with you."

He scoffed loudly, "Yeah, right. Me in love with you is as likely as Filch getting married."

She nodded slowly, ignoring the way her stomach twisted painfully at his words. "I completely agree. Ron went off on me, saying that if I valued our relationship, then I would 'get my arse on the train'."

"What relationship?"

"My words exactly," she agreed. "When I told him this…he went mental; he got this crazed look in his eyes, telling me that I didn't appreciate him, screaming at me. I was lucky enough to step off the staircase and that it moved when it did; I am positive that if he had gotten his hands on me, he would've throttled me." She rubbed her face in exhaustion, choking as the sobs threatened to return. It hurt…it felt so raw, so painful, and it hurt to know that Ron was such a prat.

Especially since, barely a year ago, she had been madly in love with him.

It made her wonder just what their relationship would've been like if they had gotten together.

"If he had laid his hands on you, he would've had Potter and me to deal with."

She jumped at the growling tone in Draco's voice, eyes widening at the way his face darkened with a feral rage she had never seen before. His eyes grew stormy, lips thinning as he fought back the urge to go out and kill the Weasel in the slowest, most painful fashion possible.

"It's all right," she said softly. "Ron's a right git at times but it doesn't mean you have to hurt him. I…I suppose it goes with what you said. A lot of people changed during the war, he lost his brother, had nearly lost Bill the year before, and we were all stretched very thin. He…he was there when Fred was killed. I think it changed him, made him care a little too much about those close to him. He gets over possessive, I think, and tries to overprotect everyone. It doesn't help that it's you," she admitted.

"Why? I know that Weasel isn't exactly my best mate, but why would you staying with _me_, of all people, make things harder?"

"You're everything he isn't," she said softly. "You're rich, you're powerful, and now you are a changed man and a war hero. People may not entirely trust you, some still think that you're a Death Eater through and through, but, according to the important people, you are a great hero. I know Ron may be higher than you in that area, but he still gets jealous. It doesn't hurt that you're more attractive than him," she added, fighting back a blush that threatened to consume her face.

He tugged uncomfortably at his scarf, taking a moment to remove it, muttering something about heat and using it as an excuse to explain the blush on his face. Clearing his throat, he nodded slowly. "I see. But just because Weasel gets jealous sometimes doesn't mean he has any right to hurt you."

"I know," she sighed. "But he's still my friend…"

"Stop making excuses for him," Draco snapped, eyes flashing with sudden irritation. "You act like he isn't all that bad; you make up all of these excuses for his and Potter's treatment of you. Why can't you just open your eyes and see how they've mistreated you?" He unfurled his legs, leaning towards her. "Tell me, when you lied and got tortured at my house, did they even properly thank you?"

"I…well…Harry said I did amazing," she mumbled. "But…really…we were at war. We weren't exactly thinking about that once we got away."

"Stop making up damn excuses!" Draco shouted, pounding his fist onto the floor. "Stop lying to me and yourself!"

"I …Harry's not all that bad!" she cried. "He doesn't pester me anymore to help with homework, he understands me a bit more."

"Fine, so Potty's a bit nicer than the Weasel, so what?"

"You're right, okay? You're right!" she shouted, tears threatening to overflow. "You're fucking right! They have been abusive; they used me for homework, for my intelligence, and never thanked me for anything. They took all of the glory at the end of the war and left me with nothing. And Ron…Ron just assumed I was his because I was infatuated with him for a few years. He acts like he owns me, like I'm just some object. But you know what? They're still my friends."

"Friends do not treat friends the way Weasel treats you."

"What do you want me to do about it? I can't do anything!"

"Confront them! Tell them how wrong they are; tell them that they can't use you anymore! I don't care how you do it, just do it! Tell them so that they stop making you cry!"

She pulled back suddenly, cocking her head to one side with perplexity. "Who ever said that they made me cry?"

"I…" He tensed under her inquisitorial gaze, fidgeting uncomfortably as she glared at him. "I…well…I know that they've made you cry in the past."

"Well…it's true," she admitted quietly. "But really, we were just children. They didn't know what they were saying!"

"They knew exactly what they were saying and what it would do," he snarled, grateful for the return of their infuriation. "They knew that it hurt. We weren't stupid when we were eleven, misguided, yes, but we knew what made people cry and what didn't. Even Potty and Weasel aren't stupid enough not to know that."

"Yes but…Harry's apologized," she admitted. "He did it last summer, told me how sorry he was for treating me like he did."

"And obviously Weasel didn't say a thing," Draco countered.

"Well, no…I mean, like I said, Ron's had a difficult time…"

"Stop making up fucking excuses!"

"But…it's true. He hasn't exactly had the perfect life, so I understand if his self-esteem is rather low. I understand his need to be in the limelight; he's never really been at the center of focus in his family and all…"

"Granger," he growled in warning.

"I know…that doesn't excuse what he's done," she sighed in defeat.

"Exactly!"

"But, that doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"He doesn't fucking deserve your friendship!" Draco shouted.

"W…What?"

"You're too fucking nice; you're nice to everyone, helping everyone out, always thinking about others before yourself. And Weasel takes advantage of that. He takes advantage of you. A prick like that doesn't deserve a nice person like you as his friend."

"Maybe you're right," she admitted. "Maybe he doesn't deserve someone like me. But we've been through so much together that I just can't stop being his friend. We'll get through this, just like we got through everything else."

"I…"

"What're you guys doing?"

Their heads spun to face the owner of the voice, finding mousy-haired Dennis Creevey standing nearby, confusion making him look younger than he was.

Wiping furiously at her eyes, making it look like she was rubbing her face, Hermione swallowed thickly. "How much have you heard, Dennis?"

"Nothing really," he admitted honestly. "I heard shouting and decided to investigate. Are you going to tell me why you're sitting in the middle of the hall with Malfoy?"

Sighing at the reminder of their predicament, Hermione gestured to the sprig of mistletoe above their heads. "That's why."

"But…can't you just walk away?"

It was at times like these that she was sharply reminded of how young Dennis was and that he, like her, was Muggle-Born.

She quickly explained the charm over the mistletoe, adding that neither she nor Draco knew the counter-charm.

"Oh, I see. So that means that you two have to kiss, doesn't it?"

"Yes." She became wary, noticing how his eyes glowed in a way that reminded her sharply Colin's when the boy found something fascinating.

"Dennis…" she began.

"I'll be right back!" he squealed, sprinting off, probably headed towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

Groaning loudly, she buried her face in her hands. Draco, on the other hand, remained blissfully unaware of just how their situation had taken a turn for the worse.

"What's the matter, Granger?"

"Dennis," she moaned, "he's going to get his camera."

"What?"

"He's gone to get his camera and then he'll come back here and wait for us to kiss."

"But…why?"

"It's interesting to him. He, like Colin, would make a good reporter; they're fascinated by the oddest of things, most of which are very scandalous."

"Well then, he'll be waiting for some time, won't he?"

She lifted her head from her hands, glancing at his smirking face. "Why do you say that?"

"I refuse to kiss you and you refuse to kiss me. It's simple; he'll wait for a while before getting fed up, then he'll go back to the Gryffindor tower and sulk." Draco's smirk widened. "Or, we can use him to get McGonagall, who'll fix this damn situation with a wave of her wand."

"Malfoy, you're a genius!"

"I already knew that, Granger, no need for you to scream it." He looked at his nails, examining them in a way that reminded her of a cocky, self-assured, charismatic, and chauvinistic man.

"But…there's a problem," she sighed suddenly.

"And that is?"

"What if McGonagall doesn't know the counter-spell?"

"Why do you always say something to ruin the moment?" he retorted, smirk faltering.

"Because it's probably true; if she knew how to remove the spell, I'm certain that she would've done so a long time ago. It would prevent awkward moments like these."

"Then how about Flitwick?" Draco asked, almost begging for her to say that the teacher knew the counter-spell.

"She would have had him use the counter-spell," Hermione reminded Draco. "Same goes for every other teacher in the school."

"So…you're saying that we're really stuck here unless we kiss?"

"Yes."

"Fuck!"

"I know."

"Gods…" he groaned, rubbing his face and running his hands through his hair in frustration.

He had to find some way out of this predicament and, at the moment, the only way out seemed to be locking lips with the brunette in front of him. He didn't know why the thought made his body yearn; sending the strangest of tingling sensations down his spine to fill him, and it confused the hell out of him. That was one of the reasons he didn't want to risk kissing the woman; he was afraid of what might happen to his body.

He had to admit, she wasn't unattractive. She had a lovely heart-shaped face and full rosy lips that almost beckoned to be kissed. Her thickly lashed doe eyes were the most captivating amber colour, reminding him of aged whiskey, and she got the slightest of dimples whenever she smiled.

Her body, to boot, wasn't bad either. A lovely figure, slightly widening at the hips and full enough breasts that he knew, if he were to try and cup them, he would get a handful. But, he reminded himself, he would never dare touch her breasts.

Unless he was going to punch her boob, but that was different.

He really didn't want to kiss her…but, he felt like he had no choice.

"All right," he sighed loudly. "I'll do it."

She arched a brow, curious to know what he meant. "Do what?"

"I'll…kiss you."

She choked, throat closing as her body reacted in the most curious of ways. It was as though fireworks were going off in every nerve ending, blood racing rapidly through her veins as her heart pounded with something oddly close to joy. She gasped for air as her cheeks burned with a vivid blush and electrical pulses made her stomach flip excitedly.

She wanted to ask him to repeat what he had just said, wanted to be sure that that was what she'd heard, but she feared that if she heard the words a second time, her body might explode.

"W…Why?" she heaved.

"Isn't it obvious? I don't feel like spending the whole night out here." He gestured to the window, pointing out that it had darkened considerably outside. "Besides, it seems that, eventually, we will have to kiss. So we may as well get it done and over with it."

"I…"

She had to admit, she agreed with his reasoning. Besides, it wasn't like this would be her first kiss and it was definitely not like they had to have sex. But still…it was kissing Draco and she knew that, if they were to kiss, they would probably avoid each other for weeks on end.

Damn it, things were being screwed up more and more!

Sighing heavily, she looked him over; wondering if she would even dare kiss him. He was rather attractive, that she admitted. His features had softened, lips just plump enough to be lovely but not overly feminine, nose long enough to not be overbearing, despite being slightly pointed at the tip, and his whole facial structure was pleasant and easy to look at. But it was his eyes that held her captive. Grey steel, an icy gaze that darkened with rage and lightened with joy. They were a wonderful quicksilver surrounded by thick, pale lashes.

It didn't hurt that his body was decent enough, tall and lean, muscular enough to be sexy; she knew that he had a six-pack and that, unfortunately, he did have a nice buttocks. Damn bastard; it had been cruel to moon her like he had…then again; she _had_ barged into his room.

It's true…it wasn't like she would be kissing Neville or Harry, two people she considered to be average in appearance and too close to her. At least if she were to kiss Draco, it would not be like kissing a brother.

He made a good point, she added. There was no other way they would be able to get out of this damn predicament; they would have to suck it up and kiss each other.

On the lips…

Resisting the urge to swear, she rubbed her eyelids with the tips of her fingers.

"We really have no other choice."

"I know," he sighed.

"I…I suppose if it means getting our freedom…I mean…even though it'll be gross and all, kissing you …I suppose I'll do it."

"Good. Let's do it now."

She opened an eye to glare at him. "Now? Give me a few minutes at least to ready myself for the torture I'm about to be put through."

He got to his feet, brushing himself off and gestured for her to do the same. As soon as they kissed, he wanted to get the fuck out of here.

"No choice, Granger," he said as she got to her feet. "I want to get this done before Creevey gets back with that damn camera of his. It won't make things easier on either of us if he gets a picture of us locking lips."

"I suppose." She brushed herself off, gnawing on her lower lip as anxiety flooded her system.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"I…all right…" She took a tentative step forward before taking one back. Her eyes flashed with fear and worry as she began to wring her hands.

"I…all right…okay…I…I can do this…No…No I can't." She rubbed her face, moving as much as she could, constantly moving forward and then backward, unable to make up her mind. "I can do this…yes, I can…I can do this…Gods, I can't…I can't kiss you. It's just…wrong…I can't do this…"

"Oh, come on Granger, it's not like I'm asking you have sex with me," he snapped. "Come over here and stop your pacing." He reached out, grabbing her wrists and tugging her to him.

Gently placing his hands on her shoulders, he rubbed her tenderly with his thumbs, looking down at her. "Really, I thought you've kissed people before; I thought this would be no big deal."

"But…but…"

He gently cupped her left cheek, tilting her head back. "Let's just get this done and over with, okay? Then we can go back to arguing and screaming at each other. Sound good?"

"I suppose…" Her cheeks became feverishly hot with blush, heart hammering wildly in her chest as he took one step closer. She could feel his body heat radiating off of him, saw the way his eyes suddenly darkened with an emotion she had never experience before in her life.

Slowly, he leaned down and she felt her eyes flutter shut, excitement coursing through her veins, making her blood pound in her ears. Tentatively, his lips touched hers for a fraction of a second, just brushing before they fully covered hers.

They were soft and warm, gentle against hers, as tender as his hand, barely moving against hers. Then, suddenly, they moved just the slightest bit, shifting their position.

When this happened, fireworks exploded in the back of her mind. Electricity pulsed throughout her body, making her heart beat unnaturally fast and the breath to be taken away from her. She felt heat pool in regions she had never known existed, felt her body tense up, heat and flush in a matter of seconds.

Everything became a whirlwind of sensations, warmth and lust suddenly combined, threatening to overwhelm and consume her as their lips moved. She yielded under his embrace, opening up to him and his kiss, allowing their lips to explore one another's, giving in more and more to the temptation of his embrace.

He was breathless, his mind and sanity obliterated by all consuming heat. A strange form of desire licked at his body, tugging at him somewhere in his stomach as the organ knotted violently, suddenly assaulted by thousands of butterflies. His pulse quickened, blood rushing in his veins to make his body become feverishly hot, and he became unaware of everything but her soft lips on his.

They were so soft…so warm…so perfect against his.

Slowly, tentatively, he felt her tongue creep out to touch the tip of his.

­_Click! Click! Click!_

"Wow! What great shots!"

"You little bastard!"

Draco spun away from Hermione's arms, waving his fist furiously at the mousy-haired boy who hurried away. "You better run, you little git! When I catch you, both you and that camera won't live to see another day!"

She was left standing there, panting for air, wondering just what in the world had happened. Her lips felt swollen and moist and her heart thundered against her ribs. Never, not even when kissing Ron, had she felt such a violent and pleasurable sensation.

Unconsciously, she reached up and touched her lips, wondering just what had made her experience such a powerful reaction.

Draco spun back around, grimacing angrily. "That little brat…when I catch him…" He broke off at the sight of Hermione. Suddenly, every sensation he had felt when kissing her came back with full force.

Swallowing thickly, he looked down at the brunette, wondering just how to react in order to make the situation and the unbearable tension dissolve.

"I…well…that was the foulest thing I have ever experienced," he lied, proud that his voice did not shake and that the lie was not obvious.

"What?" She was instantly pulled from her reveries, unconsciously grateful that he had known how to diffuse the situation. She would go over her thoughts later, when she was alone and no one would be able to see the emotions in her eyes.

"It's no wonder," he sighed, pulling out and waving his wand to levitate the tree. "I mean, you've only kissed Krum and Weasel."

"Well, they kiss a whole lot better than you," she spat, picking up the bag and following him back to the Tower.

"Don't flatter yourself or them," he retorted.

"Right now I feel like vomiting, that's how foul the kiss was."

"Likewise."

"Good!"

"Good."

"So…when are we going to decorate the damn Tower?"

"What?"

"You heard me, bad-kisser, when do you want to decorate the Tower with your asinine decorations?"

"Decorations can't be asinine; they don't have a brain," she pointed out, closing in behind him.

"Point proven; if they don't have a brain, they must be stupid," he replied. "So…do you want to decorate before or after I kill Creevey?"

"You can't kill him! Just…take his camera."

Draco smirked back at her. "You would've made a good Slytherin."

"Oh, go fuck yourself."

**Oooh, Chapter 9 is done.**

**So…I had them kiss. I originally had them kiss and then act immediately like it was super gross, gagging and everything, but I like this way better. **

**I don't want them falling in love just yet, it's too soon, but the kiss will help them understand their feelings towards each other. They'll be confused by their reactions and want to know why their bodies acted the way they did.**

**Everything will be there in upcoming chapters, don't worry.**

**Today's recipe is to go with Chapter 8's recipe. This is the icing that goes on top of the Cocoa Sugar Cookies**

**Royal Icing Paint**

**Ingredients:**

**¼ cup meringue powder½ cup water**

**4 ½ cups icing sugarPaste food colouring**

**In large bowl, beat meringue powder with water until foamy, about 2 minutes. Beat in sugar until stiff, about 9 minutes (try using medium, tends to go a bit faster). Divide between 2 bowls; tint 1 of the bowls desired colour. Divide each bowl in half to make 2 white and 2 coloured small bowls. Cover with damp cloths to prevent drying out. **

**Tip: let iced cookies dry and set for 24 hours before storing.**

**Brought to you by: Canadian Living, December 2008, page 176. **

**Review overview:**

**Flames = used to fuel the irritation and desire between Draco and Hermione. Ha! In your face!**

**Constructive criticism = always welcome. Please point out any mistakes you see and mention to them to me in your review.**

**Adoration = LOVED! I appreciate every review of adoration because it increases my ego and confidence. **

**Cookies of love to everyone. ^.^**

**Until the next chapter…**

**Thank you for reading.**


	11. Carrots, Sensuality and Perplexity

**Sorry I haven't been able to update lately. I've been extremely busy with work (working at a grocery store at this time of year is hell) and I spent the past few days at my boyfriends (our own little Christmas with his family) so I haven't been able to sit at the comp. for a few hours to type away.**

**Plus, add all of the Christmas shopping, baking, decorating, and cleaning. **

**Jeez.**

**So much work.**

**But it's all worth it.**

**Enjoy.**

**A belated Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to everybody!!!!!!!!!!**

**Here's your present!**

**Warning: some solo smut coming up. You don't like sexy stuff, you may as well turn away. There isn't much, but it's there. **

**Chapter 10**

**Carrots, Sensuality and Perplexity**

"I think we need to set a few things straight."

"Yeah…I don't think this tree is straight, either."

Hermione glared furiously at the blond, who was staring at the Christmas tree slowly opening in the stand to the left of the fireplace. It was small corner, a home of a desk that had been transfigured into the tree stand – the chair was now a small rug – and just out of the way so that the tree wouldn't catch fire.

The blond cupped his chin with his forefinger and thumb, staring curiously at the fir as he waved his wand idly, trying to straighten the vegetation.

"You're not even listening to me," Hermione snapped, wanting to get this discussion done and over with.

While there had been no tension during the walk back, the second they had been confined to the Tower, the air had thickened and the level of anxiety rose to impossible levels. She was uncomfortable with this, unsure of what to do or say now that they were alone.

It was so…odd. One minute they were kissing and the next they were setting up a tree and trying to act as normal as possible. Actions, she quickly noticed, did not always do the job. There were things that a simple action could not mask; the way her heart sped up, the way it became harder to breathe, and how she could barely stare at him for more than two seconds without blushing.

She hated to admit it, abhorred admitting it, but, it had to be said – mentally, of course; she would never dare say it aloud. The kiss had been mediocre.

'_Hermione Granger, you are a bad liar.'_

All right…the kiss had been more than mediocre.

'_Getting closer to the truth…'_

Okay, okay, the kiss had been mind blowing.

'_All right! Now you get a cookie for being honest.'_

_'Shut the fuck up.'_

Now that her schizophrenic moment was over, she focused back to the fact that the kiss had created fireworks and nearly swept her off of her feet.

His lips had felt so…nice against hers. The way he had managed to gently bring her into the kiss, how just touching her face had created such intimacy, it made it hard to forget the embrace. Her body had lit like gasoline to a flame, burning with a feverish desire she had never experienced before in her life.

It was…excuse the lack of a better description…insanely mind-blowing.

But, once they had separated, once she was forced to recognize whose lips had been on hers, the pitter-patter of desire immediately transformed into a thundering of terror and anxiety. The level of comfort had been decreased exponentially; a barrier had been breached, increasing the intimacy between the two of them. With this new intimacy, these new feelings swamping her body, it became difficult to look at him, to be in the same room with him, without feeling nervous and worried.

She was terrified that he would discover her secret, horrified at the idea that he had found the kiss sub-par while it had excited every nerve ending in her body, and unbelievably uncomfortable with him.

It couldn't be helped; the increase of intimacy came with a cost.

'_Fuck you, Peeves, fuck you!'_

She mentally swore over and over again, wanting to break down and cry and jump for joy all at the same time.

Her plans were now ruined; she and Draco would not be able to spend more than five minutes with each other without feeling tense. Their budding relationship had developed a new awkwardness that she feared may never go away.

It bothered her more, not because she wanted to give him the best Christmas, but because she realized that she enjoyed his company. She had come to enjoy his presence, comfortable around him, relishing in their conversations – bantering or not – and she had gotten used to his lounging and irked stares.

Now this kiss, this breach, had destroyed the level of comfort they had established. His presence was now overwhelming, the scent of him clouding her mind, the sight of him destroying her nerves. Their conversations would always hold a little something extra, this little hint that both knew they had experienced something beyond an acquaintanceship level of intimacy. The way he looked at her, the way he lounged, would forever become imprinted in her mind as a sexual action or something driven by desire and heady kisses.

It had only been one kiss, one peck, but sometimes that's all it took to create an overwhelming tension that threatened to choke and consume someone.

She had to do something…had to find a way to reestablish their earlier level of acquaintanceship in order to obliterate the tension.

"I…I think we need to talk."

He glanced over to her, having successfully straightened the tree and cleaned the needles.

"What's the matter, Granger?"

She wrung her hands, gnawing on her lower lip as she fought some inkling, some idea of how to go about this.

How was she supposed to say '_Malfoy, I really enjoyed the kiss, but I'd rather we go back to the way we were before. Pretend it never happened, you know?'_

It was so difficult to deal with relationships.

"It's about the kiss," she blurted out, feeling her cheeks reddened once she realized what she'd said.

Lifting a brow, he pocketed his wand and completely turned around, leaning against the back of the sofa as she fidgeted nervously in front of him. Slowly crossing his arms, he waited patiently for her to continue, ignoring the warning bells in his head and the way his blood rushed at the reminder of their kiss.

"Go on," he urged, curious to know what she would say.

"Well…all right," she breathed deeply, closing her eyes for a moment as she found a zone of security and relaxation. "Before I continue, I'm going to be honest; it was an all right kiss."

_'Liar, liar, knickers on fire!'_

'_Shut up, my knickers are not on fire!'_

Draco slowly nodded, silent as he waited.

"Okay…and I'll admit that we've, well…reached a different level of intimacy after this kiss." She didn't wait for him to speak, even though it looked like he wanted to blurt out something. "I…I propose that, to avoid the tension caused by this … new level…we, well, pretend that the kiss never happened. I hate admitting this, but, well, I feel a bit uncomfortable now. I feel like we should be avoiding each other, which I am certain we will.

"So, I think that…instead of trying to avoid each other for the rest of the school – which we most definitely will not be able to accomplish, seeing as we're cohabitating – I think that we should forget the kiss ever happened and act like nothing happened. I think that, in pretending it never took place, we'll be able to feel more…comfortable, and not worry about the kiss and everything related to it."

She bit down on her lower lip, stopping when she felt a twinge of pain. "Does…does any of this make sense to you?"

It was as though Draco's brow was permanently fixed in an arching position, tilted just enough to give her a look of curious disbelief.

"Let me get this clear." He spoke slowly, as though unsure of his words and voice. "You want to pretend that we never kissed so that we don't avoid each other and feel uncomfortable around each other?"

"I…uh…yes…"

He sighed softly, shifting so that his hands made their way into his pockets. "I suppose it makes sense. You're afraid that we'll be uncomfortable around each other and not want to be in the same room as one another, so, in pretending that we never kissed, we will avoid this and be able to live comfortably."

She nodded, grateful that he understood what she meant.

He exhaled again. "I only have one question. Why?"

"I…well…like I said…um…okay…well, like I mentioned, it's not fun avoiding each other and the tension doesn't make living together easier. This way, we won't be hiding from each other and making everyone else feel nervous. Be…besides," her voice lowered, "I enjoy your presence."

"What?" he gawked, unable to comprehend what had just come out of her mouth. He had heard her, but he couldn't understand why she would say such a thing.

"I feel…You see…oh goodness, okay…it's like this; I like talking to you, I like being able to do my homework with you, I…I even like our arguments; they're entertaining. I get along with you and, to be honest, I think that, maybe in another day and life, we could've been good friends. I like our relationship; we have a lot in common and our conversations are always intellectually stimulating. And…well…it's nice, being able to do my homework with someone who understands what I'm saying and doesn't try to copy me word for word."

"You like me?"

Her cheeks burned with blush, embarrassment flooding her system as she fought for calm.

"I…wait….no…not at all…not in that sense…I mean, jeez…oh dear…" she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

He chuckled quietly, enjoying the sight of her panicking over such simple words.

"Don't worry, Granger; I know what you mean. I like your presence too."

"You what? You…you do?" She couldn't hide the joy that made her eyes glow brilliantly. Could barely push down the urge to jump gleefully and scream, '_He likes me! He likes me!'_ like Rudolph.

"Of course," he shrugged, as though it were the most obvious and simplest thing in the world. "Obviously, I have no choice; we do live together and if I want to finish this year completely intact, I have to like you," he added nonchalantly. When her eyes flashed with annoyance, he smirked and continued, "Fine, I'll be honest, you have a decent personality and we have, to a certain degree, similar thoughts. Our conversations are intellectually stimulating, like you said, and, on occasion, I don't mind the random discussion or bantering."

"You're being honest with me, right? You're not lying just to get me into some safety zone and then hex me?"

He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her and shrugged instead. "What's the point in lying? We just fuck ourselves and others over in the end."

"Does this mean that you're being nice to me?"

His smirked slightly broadened and he adjusted his position, stretching his back as he arched forward. "Obviously."

"Well, I think we should be recording this for proof. Just in case you try and deny it ever happened."

"You're going to ruin my kindness-mood, Granger," he pretended to threaten, smiling broadly now.

"Oh no, we don't want to go ahead and ruin this rare and unusual moment," she gasped, enjoying how she could tease him without offending anyone. Normally, she couldn't even tease Ron or Harry without one of them taking it seriously.

And they thought that she was prude and boorish.

Rolling his eyes, he shifted so that his arms were thrown on the back of the couch. "So, let's get everything straight. You don't want us to think about the kiss because you're afraid of losing whatever…relationship…we have?"

She nodded, grateful that he understood her thoughts on the situation. She feared that he would rub it in her face, make crude and snide remarks and exaggerate the kiss to make it sound like she threw herself on him. His reaction, however, eased her fears and made her feel rather silly for thinking such thoughts.

He was a lot kinder than everyone thought.

"All right."

"Pardon?"

"I said 'all right.' I'm fine with pretending the ki…thing…never happened. One less bad memory to create nightmares," he joked.

"You prat," she spat. "At least I don't slobber."

"I did not!"

She turned away, heading to the nearest coat rack to hang her jacket and outer gear. "You did too. I needed a mop to clean up my face."

"I do not slobber!" he cried, taking a few steps away from the couch to glare and point at her. "At least I don't try to eat the other person's face!"

"I did not try to eat your face." She rolled her eyes, grateful for the sudden switch to comfortable bantering.

"You did too. I believe that, at one point in time, you had my nose in your mouth."

"Well, Malfoy," she tsked, "I thought you knew that you're supposed to kiss with your mouth, not your nose."

"You twit, the only reason my nose was in your mouth was because you tried sticking your tongue up my nostril. I was defenseless; you mouth-raped my nose."

"Mouth-raped your nose?" She stopped in the middle of her route to the couch, arching a brow at the blond. "Well, that's the first time I've heard such an eloquent phrase."

"You know what I mean," he spat, glaring furiously at her.

"I suppose I do," she sighed, sinking into the white recliner as she sat. "So…when do you want to decorate?"

"Don't try to change the topics so fast, Granger. You know that you mouth-raped my nose, and I know it, and I bet that, if we saw the pictures, we would see just that!"

At those words, the duo paled and the room swayed violently around them.

_Dennis Creevey…_

_And his camera…_

_Took pictures…_

_"_FUCK!"

"Holy cow, Granger, you actually swore with me!"

"This is not the same to make childish remarks!" Hermione cried, leaping to her feet. "We have to find a way to get that camera and get rid of those pictures!"

"I agree."

She lifted a brow at him. "Is that all you can say? 'I agree'? Can't you say something more…productive? Like suggestions on how to get the camera back?"

"I may be a cunning Slytherin, but Creevey's a Gryffindork, which means that he's _your_ territory."

"My territory? How is it my territory? And it's Gryffin_dor_ not Gryffindork."

"Gryffindork, Granger, Gryffindork," he corrected with a grin. "He's your responsibility seeing as he is from your house."

"What does that have anything to do with responsibility for him?"

"For some smart Gryffindork, you really don't clue in too fast, do you?" he sighed, moving to collapse on the couch. "You know him, you know those Gryffindorks, and is it a lot likelier that you can get the camera back than me. Imagine their reactions if the little Gryffindorks saw me waltzing into their home?"

He did have a point, she mentally sighed. He would not be able to get the camera back without using brute force, or outwitting the poor child, but she could get it back and ensure that Dennis remained happy in the meanwhile.

That bastard.

"I hate you sometimes, did you know that?" she growled, falling back into the armchair, admitting defeat.

"The feeling is mutual," he smiled.

They reclined comfortably for a while, relishing the sudden calm silence that fell between them. There was no awkwardness, no tension to make things unbearable. There was only calamity and silence.

"I suppose," she sighed after a moment, "I will deal with Dennis later. Right now," she blushed suddenly as her stomach growled loudly, "I'm quite famished."

Absentmindedly rubbing his stomach at the thought, Draco felt his stomach rumble under his palm and couldn't agree more. "So, I'll assume that the decorating process shall be put on hold?"

"Definitely," she replied, reluctantly getting to her feet and heading into the kitchen. "Anything in particular you want?"

He lifted his head to peer at her over the couch, arching both brows. "We're acting unusually civil towards each other at this moment, aren't we?"

She shrugged, opening the fridge to pull out a jug of fruit juice – she was getting rather tired of pumpkin juice. "True. Maybe it's the Christmas spirit, tugging at our heartstrings…"

"Right," he scoffed, "I can't possibly have heartstrings, seeing as half of the wizarding population believes that I have no heart."

Her lips twitched and he could see her mind whirling with a myriad of answers, ranging from intimate and kind to comical and silly. He saw the way her eyes darkened just the slightest, the amber whiskey aging as she set the jug on the counter.

"Well," she said softly as the emotions stopped flitting in her eyes, "I think that they're wrong."

"How so?" he blurted, sitting upright in shock.

"Obviously you must have a heart in order for your body to function," she said matter-of-factly. "Without a heart, blood would not be pumped through your veins and your organs, brain included, would not be able to function. Therefore, if you had no heart, you would be dead."

He wasn't sure if he should laugh or smack something at her intellectual response. He wanted to retort with seriousness, to tell her that, while he was, physically alive, many thought that he was dead inside and could not possibly have a live, beating heart. In the minds of thousands of wizards and witches, he was nothing more than a creature of death, a being without soul or conscience, a heartless son of a bitch who wanted nothing more than the death of every living being alive who dared defy him.

She, however, did not give him a chance to contemplate his response; her eyes fell on his shadowed face, saw the pain he tried to push away from his stormy gaze, and she quickly moved the conversation away from the painful topic.

"What would you like to eat? I won't ask again."

Lines formed on his face as he frowned with perplexity and she huffed loudly, crossing her arms as she feigned annoyance. "Malfoy, are you ignoring me again?"

"I…oh," his cheeks mottled just a bit, "I suppose I wouldn't mind a sandwich."

"A sandwich?" she squawked. "All you want is a sandwich?"

His smirk returned with renewed vigor and all melancholy receded from his eyes. "Come on, make me a sandwich."

Her cheeks flushed brightly with embarrassed anger. "Don't you dare start acting like a sexist pig!"

"Malfoys are not pigs," he replied.

"No, you're filthy ferrets. And I refuse to make you a sandwich!"

"You're in the kitchen, you asked me what I wanted, and I want you to make me a sandwich."

"You're lucky I don't feel like going over there, or I'd slap that grin off of your face," she threatened.

Said grin broadened as her fury mounted. He loved riling her up, tugging on her strings just enough so that she began to flip out at him. She was so unbelievably short-tempered at times and it entertained him to no end.

"Just make me a sandwich," he said, pretending to yawn as he lay back down, enjoying this momentary return to sanity and normalcy.

"You…you…you bloody prat! You want a bloody sandwich?" She threw open the fridge door as jars and packets magically appeared on the shelves. Grabbing several of the items, she pulled out bread from the cupboard and stomped over to him.

"Here! Here's your cold cuts, your mayonnaise, your cheese, your bread, and lettuce, make your own damn sandwich!"

With that said she unceremoniously dumped everything on the blond's lap and spun back into the kitchen.

He let out an embarrassing squeak of surprise as everything landed on him and was grateful that nothing A) broke or spilled all over him and B) landed on his crotch.

Slowly sitting up, he carefully gathered the items and placed them aside before peering back over the back of the couch. Hermione was seething by the counter, taking an occasionally sip of the juice she had poured.

He broke out in a smirk and bit back laughter. "Granger, you are so entertaining."

Baring her teeth at him, she narrowed her eyes at his words. "What do you mean?"

"You get so angry over the littlest of things," he stated. "You go mental over nothing. Why do you think I pick on you so much? It's fun."

She resisted the urge to throw the glass at his head. "You're a prat."

"I know. And you like me like that, don't you?"

"Unfortunately, I do enjoy the company of a particular ferrety prat," she admitted.

"So…are you going to make me a sandwich or no?"

"Sod off."

* * *

"Harry! Mum wants us to go caroling!"

A certain green-eyed teenager went flying up the stairs at the Burrow, sprinting through the house in search for the best possible hiding place as a certain red-headed girl chased after him.

"No! I refuse to go caroling!" he shouted, taking the steps three at a time now, having just dodged the girl for the fifth time.

"If you value our relationship and your life, you _will_ go caroling!"

She wasn't even panting! He couldn't understand it! He was sweating like a hog, flushed like Ron was most of the time, and he was panting more than he had ever panted in his life.

He didn't understand anything!

What he couldn't understand most was how come the Burrow, a house with a million different rooms, did not have any decent hiding places.

"Harry Potter! Get your hairy arse back downstairs and go caroling with us!" Ginevra Weasley shrieked.

"My arse is not hairy and I refuse to go caroling!" he shouted back, rounding a corner and yanking out his wand.

Ginny rounded the corner to find the hallway devoid of life. After searching extensively, she let out a furious cry and stomped back downstairs.

At the exact same moment, down in the town of Ottery St-Catchpole, said green-eyed, dark-haired wizard appeared in an alleyway, far from the prying eyes of Muggles. Shivering in the December wind, he summoned his jacket and reveled in the warm comfort it gave him.

Stepping out from the alley, he made his way down the street and for the café he had found a year back. It was small, out of the way, and the perfect hideaway whenever Ginny wanted him to do something unbelievably embarrassing and silly.

Like caroling, for example.

As he stepped in the warmth of the little café, he felt a twinge of guilt as he recalled that Ron was stuck with the Weasleys and their caroling adventure. Poor Teddy Lupin, now three, was being dragged along as well.

Ordering himself a giant slice of cheesecake and coffee – he discovered he enjoyed said beverage black – he sat himself down and enjoyed his snack.

The enjoyment didn't last long, however, as his eyes fell on a couple seated in a couch near the front windows. The girl had long, wavy brown hair and the boy was a strawberry blond. They were snuggled closed, whispering and giggling to each other as they sipped their drinks.

His stomach tugged uncomfortably and Harry took a swig of the coffee, successfully burning his tongue.

Once the pain ebbed enough, he stared down at his cheesecake.

What was Hermione doing right now?

He had last seen her this morning, waving his goodbyes as she hurried up the steps towards her Tower. He, roughly half an hour after this, had come across a seething Ron and had been worried every since.

Ron had refused to speak with anyone, keeping himself to the corner of the compartment and spent the whole ride home glaring out of the window. At the train station, he shoved students out of his way and had Apparated back at the Burrow before anyone else had a chance to catch up to him.

When Harry had arrived back, he had found a confused Mrs. Weasley in the parlor, staring up the stairs Harry assumed Ron had marched up only moments before. Sure enough, the bedroom door had been locked and Harry was forced to share sleeping quarters with Ginny, not that he minded.

Hermione's parents hadn't yet arrived and Harry dreaded their arrival. Mrs. Weasley's reaction to Hermione's decision had been … surprisingly pleasant. However, Harry knew better; Mrs. Weasley was probably hiding her fury in an attempt to keep their vacation merry and relaxing.

Or, she had finally acknowledged that children and their friends were old enough to make their own decisions now.

But, Harry recalled, he hadn't told her _who_ Hermione would be staying with…

Ron would probably end up screaming it at some point in time…

Taking a bite of his cheesecake, Harry wondered what he could do to repair the relationship between Ron and Hermione. He realized that he, too, was having a difficult time comprehending the situation between Hermione and Draco. Hell, he still had a hard time acknowledging that Draco was reformed and a war hero.

Draco Malfoy had been one of the few people to cause him the most pain and suffering throughout his childhood. He had been crude and violent, mistreating everyone he deemed to be beneath him, and this sudden change of heart right before the war seemed a little too good to be real.

Or…or maybe what he had said was true; maybe Draco had only begun to reform the year before, when he had finally witnessed the true cruelty of Voldemort.

Harry still couldn't believe this notion…this idea…It was too difficult to think of your childhood enemy as your best friend or comrade in arms.

It was too unbelievable.

Sitting back, tugging at the collar of his shirt, he glanced out of the window to look at the picturesque village.

What was Hermione doing right now?

What could he do to understand her…?

He…he had to see her again, he realized. They hadn't spoken enough before his departure and there were things he needed to say to her before the end of break. Things he wanted…needed…to hear her say.

How? How could he do this in a way so that he was undetected by everyone else and no one, especially not Ron, would be able to duplicate it in any way or form?

Without alerting the Muggles of this, he carefully transfigured the salt and pepper shakers into a pen and paper. Cheesecake and coffee forgotten, he began writing, hoping that the person receiving this would understand his plight.

* * *

"What the hell is this?"

Hermione sighed heavily and rubbed her face wearily. "It is a vegetable platter and a mini-sandwich platter, what does it look like?"

"What kind of supper is this?"

"The kind you bloody well wanted, so shut your trap and eat your food!" she snapped, glaring at the gaping blond.

"But why do we have a vegetable platter? I didn't want a vegetable platter," Draco complained, reaching out to place several sandwiches on his plate.

"You're not the only one eating," she sighed again, placing several vegetables onto her plate along with a dollop of dip. "I wanted the vegetable platter."

"You're going to eat all of that?" he asked, gaping at the massive amount of assorted vegetables.

"Well, I didn't want to trouble the House Elves by having them make a large supper for me, so yes, I probably will eat all of this. It's a lot better than your sandwiches," she retorted, dipping celery into the dip.

"I'll have you know that the bread is whole wheat and there is lettuce in my ham sandwich," he gestured, pointing at her with said sandwich.

"Yes, but you have mayonnaise with your egg sandwich and cheddar with your turkey."

"What's so wrong with cheddar?"

"It has the highest fat quantity of all cheeses," she stated, biting down on her celery.

"So?"

"So, it's not as good for you as you would like to think."

"Then, can I have some of your vegetables?"

"Sod off."

"Come on, Granger, you keep complaining that I won't eat healthy but you won't share your healthy food with me. Besides, I saw you eyeing those egg salad sandwiches."

"You're annoying. Why can't you be quiet when you eat?"

"Because it annoys you, which makes me happy," he replied, reaching forward and stealing a few vegetables.

"You arse. I would, normally, ask you to put them back, but seeing as you have touched them with your bare hands, I would rather keep the contaminated food away from me."

"That was uncalled for," he pretended to pout, shoving the sandwich into his mouth.

She picked up a piece of cucumber, cut long-ways, and dipped it. "No, it was very much called for." She placed it between her lips and sucked lightly before biting down on it.

He tilted a brow, watching her as she ate. It was strangely tantalizing, the way she placed the vegetables between her lips and gently bit down, suckling briefly on them to enjoy the taste of the dip before chewing and swallowing.

It was almost…sensual.

All conversation forgotten, he nibbled on his sandwich as he watched her eat. He watched as her lips moistened with eat bite, watched the way her fingers embraced the carrots, twirling the vegetable in the dip before placing it on her pink tongue.

His heart rate sped up as he watched her mouth open, tongue darting out to lick a smear of sauce away from her lower lip, and he felt his body tighten unexpectedly.

Her rosy lips wrapped around the vegetable, white teeth flashing just a bit before biting down on it, making a loud snapping sound.

The air thickened, growing musty and unbearable as his body began to break out in a sweat. He saw the way she visibly tensed, saw her eyes darken as the scents filled her nose and clouded her senses. He watched her cheeks flush and the carrot fall from her fingers, forgotten on her plate.

One…two…three seconds passed as they stared at each other, unmoving in the hazy air.

The chair fell to the ground with a loud bang, the apology stammered out as his footsteps hammered up the stairs, the slamming of the door echoing loudly in the silence as he leaned against it for support.

What was happening to him?

Why was his heart beating so fast? Why was it so hard to breathe? Why did his loins tighten and heat up as his face flushed red?

Panting, he gripped his knees, bent over, staring at the carpeted floor as sweat dripped down from his brow.

Why did his body feel so out of control?

Was he…?

No…that was impossible. It could not be happening to him. Hermione would never cause such a thing to happen to him…would she?

But, the burning in his body, the heat filling his veins, was unmistakable. He knew the signs, recognized them and subconsciously acknowledged them, and he couldn't ignore them.

Hermione Granger had managed to arouse him.

Running his hands through his hair, he let out a groan of defeat, unable to understand how the bushy haired Gryffindor had managed to arouse him in such a way. His body felt feverish, gooseflesh covering his flushed skin, and his heart hammered viciously against his ribs.

How could she instigate such things?

Draco was used to being aroused only by exotic beauties; women with long legs, tilted eyes, and sultry lips. The women were always curvy in the right places and flat where they needed to be flat. Their breasts were always large, at least a size bigger than the Gryffindor's, and their skin was always as flawless as their hair was smooth and straight.

Hermione was the girl next door…simple, doe-like eyes, small but full Cupid's bow lips, a more petite figure that, while curvy, was not the perfection he looked for in a woman. Her skin was pale, not an exotic tan, and her breasts were no large than a 36B, from what he had seen.

She was a plain Jane and she managed to arouse him like no other woman had.

Maybe…maybe it was because they were in such close proximity. He had never lived with a woman like this save for his mother, and they knew each other more intimately than either would like to admit. Also, he hadn't had a woman in ages, a good year at least, and his body was definitely screaming for some kind of release.

This had to be pent up sexual frustration.

He had been sexual unsatisfied for months and living with a woman didn't help, no matter the woman – unless she was Pansy or Millicent; while Millicent was brighter than she looked, she was still unbelievably unattractive.

This…it had to be that…_had_ to be…

Gods…so why, when he created said reason, did his arousal not go away? Why did he find it so hard to believe himself when everything made so much sense?

Because nothing made sense…

Locking his door, he made his way over to his bed and lay down, trying to think of something to clear his foggy mind. His loins ached, muscles clenched tightly as they yearned for release. His body was on fire, electricity pumping through him as his skin burned with desire.

No matter what he did, no matter how many times he pictured Millicent naked, his mind was always returning to the image of Hermione putting that carrot between her lips.

He couldn't…Gods…he couldn't believe what he was about to do…

In seconds, his pants were on the floor, joined by his boxers as his lubed up hand wrapped tightly around his engorged member.

Panting, he slid his hand up and down, eyes shut as he tried to think of naked exotic beauties with mile-long legs. He pictured them on the beach, basking in the warm glow of the sun with their legs spread, wet and aching for him to fuck them.

He gripped his cock, gasping for air as he bit back a groan, imagining one of the tanned women sucking him off, twirling her tongue around his tip as she took all of him into her mouth.

His mind never once crossed the image of Hermione and that blasted carrot; it was impossible for Hermione to be true source of his arousal.

Right?

Tugging up his shirt, exposing his sweat soaked chest, he gripped the bed spread as he tightened his grip and moved his hand faster. His hips pumped upwards, sliding his cock in and out of his grasp, imaging that it was the tight pussy of one of the beauties from the beach.

Sweat sluiced down his body, his heart pounded in his eyes, and he gasped for air as he felt his balls draw tight as he neared his release.

"Fuck," he hissed.

His whole body went on overdrive, his hips slamming hard, hand moving faster as his heart nearly exploded in his chest. He exploded in his hand, biting back a groan as the image of a certain brunette filled his mind, drawing out the orgasm and his fear as she placed the carrot into her sweet mouth.

He lay immobile for some time, regaining his breath as his mind fought to return to earth. His eyes were shut, brow shimmering with perspiration as he exhaled loudly.

What was happening to him?

What was it about Hermione Granger that made his body react in such a way?

* * *

She heard the door slam shut, heard the echo of it, and stared at the empty room, momentarily dazed and confused. She barely registered what had just happened, unable to understand why Draco had rushed away with such speed and fear, as though the very hounds from hell were on his heels.

She couldn't understand why the air had grown musky and her heart had begun to speed up when she looked into his eyes.

Staring down at her plate, looking at the discarded carrot, she breathed in deeply, inhaling the sweet musk in the air. She had never smelt anything like it before; it wasn't really a smell, more of a feeling…it enticed her, tugging her and pushing her to do things she had never fathomed doing before. It was sensual and desirable, making her body heat with need as her abdomen clenched tightly.

Taking a sip of juice, she barely noticed the way her hand shook; she was focused intently on relieving herself of the all-consuming heat.

This…this had never happened to her before…

What was going on?

Taking in a deep breath, she willed herself to open her eyes and stare around the room. Her stomach growled fiercely but she ignored it, fighting to find reason behind her body's reactions. Her body felt so hot, so tight and needy, and parts she never knew existed felt as though they were filled with liquid fire.

Rubbing her face, she groaned into her hands, determined to find out why her body was acting so oddly.

She…she needed to think of something else, she realized…something other than the stormy, penetrating gaze of Draco Malfoy.

Anything but the image of his quicksilver eyes burning her core with one stare…

School…school work would be able to distract her…studying, essays…just plain old reading. School work never reminded her of the blond boy, never made her think of his dark eyes.

Standing up, legs shaking with the effort, she made her way to the bookshelf by the door and grabbed the first book she found. Collapsing in the armchair, she opened the book and began to read fervently, drowning her mind in the plain words and intellectual text, fighting back the feverish waves that she did not recognize as arousal.

Anything…anything to distract her from his burning gaze…

**There we go. Chapter 10 is finally done. I got caught up with writer's block halfway through it, too, but I fixed it after only a day's delay.**

**I'm sorry this fic didn't get finished by Christmas. I originally intended it to be done by Christmas, but, obviously, that didn't happen.**

**I hope that you will all continue reading this even though the Christmas season is done and New Year's is coming up. **

**Thank you all for your patience.**

**I won't post a recipe; I don't feel like running around to find one. I'll post a good one next chapter. I have this lovely Sucre à la Crème recipe I want to share.**

**Reviews:**

**Constructive = very much welcome, especially this chapter, since I didn't get to edit it. Any mistakes seen, please note them and I will fix them as soon as I have the chance. **

**Flames = used to fuel the desire between our lovebirds**

**Adoration = used to inflate my overly-inflated ego**

**I love you guys!**

**See you next chapter!**

**By the way, the section beginning when Hermione eats her carrot to when Draco…finishes, was written to the beat of Tiesto's Bright Morningstar and Elements of Life.**

**If only I go could to his concert on January 1****st****. **

**See ya!**


	12. Picture Perfect

**Thanks for all of your reviews!! I'm glad to know that, even though the Christmas period is now over (and I have passed my deadline), people will still be reading this.**

**About anyone not getting any Alerts, I suggest you message fanfiction(dot)net for help on that. I know I got a review of someone saying that they weren't sent any. So, if you want, just re-add me to the Alerts or message the site for help.**

**It's all the advice I can give you on that. **

**The full reason for why I have not been able to update in the past month will be given at the end. **

**Here we go…**

**Chapter 11**

**Picture Perfect**

His stomach growled furiously in the silence of the room. He could, just barely, hear the voices of people several floors below, talking animatedly and joyfully. He wanted to join them, a little part of him desperately wanted to be with them in the warmth and glow of happiness and love.

But there was this other part…this angry, furious, cruel part of his mind that kept him far from everyone else. It had come to the point that even the ghoul refused to move above his room.

He locked himself in this prison, a prison he had once called home, because he could not control his jealousy and hurt.

He couldn't push away the guilt.

Oh…what had he done?

Burying his face in his hands, Ronald Weasley sat on the edge of his bed in despair. He couldn't believe that he had let so much rage, so much jealousy take over and consume him like that.

He didn't know what had made him realize this; maybe it was the thinking on the train or perhaps the hours he had spent in here, locked away with no one to talk to and no form of entertainment. All he knew was that, somehow, he had calmed down enough to conclude that he had done the worst thing imaginable.

How he had succeeded in this, he still wasn't sure, but he knew that he had some serious repairing to do.

There was only one problem…

He knew that if he were to see her, the envy would come back full force and he would become the monster he had been just a day ago.

He wouldn't care about her thoughts or feelings; his mind would shut down to every other bit of reason aside from his own and he would act violently and selfishly, uncaring of those who got in his way.

Damn it…why did he have to get a lot of his mother's traits?

But…well…now that he thought about it…maybe the envy was to be expected. He hadn't always been able to get the best of everything, being the youngest son of a large but poor family. He had always received hand-me-downs and used items, and he had always come in second or third to everyone in the family.

Even when he had gone to school, hoping for a chance to earn a place in his family, he had not been able to be the best. It was always second best for Ronald Weasley, sidekick of the famous Harry Potter.

Nope, Ron never deserved full credit for anything and he certainly never deserved to be number one. He was always number two.

He had helped Harry defeat the chess set, hadn't he? He had even sacrificed himself in order to help the ungrateful prat go ahead and defeat Quirrel. In second year, wasn't it he who had helped Harry find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets? Third year, hadn't he been the one injured against Sirius? Had Harry ever said a proper thank you? Had Hermione ever been grateful for his sacrifice while defending her in second year?

What about fourth year, when he had given away so much precious time to help Harry train for the Triwizard Tournament? Or fifth year, when he had, finally, gained some self-respect in wining the Quidditch Cup? What had Harry done? The prat had decided to kiss his sister!

Sixth year! What about the bloody sixth year? When Hermione attacked him with damn birds and had hardly looked guilty when he had nearly died! Had anyone ever thanked or apologized to him? Had anyone ever offered their sympathy when his brother had been attacked?

No. No sympathy for the Weasley. No apologies for Ronald. No credit for Ron.

So yes…his jealousy was well deserved. What had Malfoy done to deserve Hermione's full attention? The git had spent his entire Hogwarts career torturing them! He had thrown insult after insult, curse after curse, at them without any sense of remorse. He had joined the Dark Side in the war, had done nothing to help them in his Manor when they had been taken captive.

Draco Malfoy did not deserve Hermione Granger's sympathy.

Ronald Weasley did.

But…Hermione Granger did not deserve Ronald Weasley's anger.

She…she had to be innocent. She was sweet, kind Hermione, someone who, even though she never showed it, cared deeply about him. She was his first true love, the first girl who had filled his mind for years on end. She was his everything and Draco Malfoy was trying to take her away from him.

He would find a way…he would find some way to get rid of the spell Malfoy had cast over the innocent Hermione. He would rescue her from the dragon's clutches!

But…maybe…maybe he had to apologize first…just a bit. Just enough to let the others feel guilty for taking him for granted…they would feel the regret that he now felt…

But…even though they never appreciated him…they still didn't deserve what he had said and done…hell, he had nearly attacked Hermione on the stairs!

No…she didn't deserve for him to lose his cool and attack her. She didn't deserve to have him lash out like that. Only a Slytherin would do such a thing, and Ron Weasley was no Slytherin.

He was a Gryffindor, brave and courageous, not a coward who hid behind envy and pain, not someone who hurt ones he loved, and he was definitely not someone who let their loved ones go as easily.

He would get Hermione back.

She _was_ his after all, wasn't she? Oh yes…she was his.

He would get her back…no matter what.

* * *

That bloody git had been avoiding her for the past four days! It was now 13 days until Christmas and they hadn't even dented her list!

Hell, the Christmas decorations were still sitting in their bags by the door, waiting to be taken out and hung. The tree looked forlorn and bare in its corner, naked of colour and lights.

That bastard…

Seething, she paced the Common Room, waiting for the git to get off his arse and come downstairs so she could confront him and demand for some explanation.

They hadn't done anything wrong, had they? They hadn't argued, she had not prodded into his personal life, and they had certainly not done anything intimate since that blasted kiss on Sunday.

It was Thursday, god damn it, and she demanded to see him and get some reasons for his actions!

Even if it meant cursing him to the point that he was begging for mercy while being assaulted by make-up.

But really…she hadn't done a single thing wrong, had she?

She'd tried, time and time again, to find some reason for his inexplicable actions, and she came to no plausible conclusions. Maybe it was something someone had said…perhaps Dennis had not kept the photos to himself and Draco had heard of some rumours. Or, maybe he had just decided to finish all of his schoolwork before Christmas.

But none of these made sense, especially since she knew he had completed all of his work last week. There were no rumours; she, as a Gryffindor, would've been one of the first to hear of them.

Besides, whenever she saw Dennis in the halls, he went sprinting in the other way, probably more to protect his camera than anything. There were no actual signs that he had printed the photos or told the tale to anyone.

She knew Dennis well enough to know that the young Creevey would keep his mouth shut and photos to himself. He had far more common sense than his older brother and knew what actions would make his life significantly shorter.

Pacing, unable to fight back the tension building inside of her, she huffed loudly with impatience while waiting for the blond git to come out of hiding.

The bastard had been avoiding her, god damn it, and she wanted to know why!

Had she done something wrong? Said something that had offended or bothered him? Had she, somehow, touched him inappropriately? Fuck, had she eaten her food the wrong way and had, as a result, insulted him and his 'rich' upbringing?

Damn it!

"What the hell did I do?"

"I don't know, but it better not result in horrific consequences."

She spun around, gesturing furiously at the stairs, directing every action towards the blond standing at the bottom of the steps.

"You! You have been hiding in your bloody room for the past _week_!"

He arched a brow, his face stoic as his heart hammered in his chest. He could not possibly let her know his reasons for being in his room, hiding from her as he tried to figure out and fix his mind.

If she were to find out that he had really been hiding in his room, things would become so unbelievably awkward that they wouldn't be able to be in the same building together.

Hell, he probably wouldn't be able to be in the same country as her!

So, instead of giving in and answering her honestly, he decided to do the next best thing.

Resist.

"What the hell are you talking about? I have _not_ been hiding," he replied, hoping that he had put the right amount of annoyance and confusion in his voice.

"Yes, you have. You have not come out of that room for the past few days, especially when I'm around. Hell, I heard you running up there whenever I get out of my room or into the Common Room. So don't try and fool me." Her hands met her hips in a stern expression.

"Have you gone mental? Am I not allowed to spend a few days to myself? Bloody hell, for all you know, those days I went running to my room was because I was wanking off in the Common Room!" he lied.

She quickly averted her eyes and her anger faded into embarrassment as her cheeks flushed with red.

"Well…that's just…foul! Why would you be…doing _that_ in our Common Room?"

He shrugged, going along with the lie so long as she didn't see through and find out the truth. "Some days it was because I was bored and I just felt like it, other times I was reading Playwitch and well…things happen. It's not my fault you decided to show up and I had to run to my room."

"It is you fault for doing something so foul out in the open! Next time, just go to your room and do it!" She rubbed her face with her hands, silently cursing him. "Which one?"

"Hm?" he arched a brow in question.

"I…I have to know which couch you did it on," she mumbled, face burning. "That way I won't sit on it…"

He glanced over to the couches, wondering whether he should have fun with this or not. He could easily say that he had done it on all of them, or he could say that he had done it in her favourite spot. But, he could be nice and say that he had done it in his usual spot…

Now what mood was Draco Malfoy in at this very moment?

"Pretty much all of them, but I prefer the sofa. I can lie down and it's quite comfortable."

"ARGH!" She threw her hands into the air, trying not to gag and vomit all over the carpet. "You…you…"

"Foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach?" he offered with a grin.

"You are vile, disgusting, and have no respect for anyone else! How _dare_ you do that? On my favourite spot!" she cried, cheeks blushing with astonishment and rage.

"The couch was there and it was comfortable," he shrugged. "What more is there to say?"

He wondered when she would see through his ruse. For now, she was overwhelmed with feelings of disgust and embarrassment, but he knew that she would eventually realize that he did regularly masturbate while seated in her favourite spot.

Breathing heavily, she rubbed her face vigorously as she fought to gather her breath and wits. The image of him, lying naked on the couch, massaging his bare cock, had instantly filled her mind. With that image – fantastical, no doubt, seeing as she had imagined him with a large penis while she was certain that in real life is was no bigger than a thumbtack – her body had been consumed by white-hot explosion of desire. She wasn't too sure if it actually was desire or something different, but she became utterly aware of their proximity and the way her blood pounded in her veins.

She felt liquid heat pool in her abdomen and fought to the urge to squirm with awkwardness as she felt her knickers dampen.

Had she just _peed_ herself?

Something, some deep animalistic instinct, told her that she had not peed herself. Something far worse had just occurred.

Shaking every image and thought from her mind, she battled to clear it enough to find some sanity in this situation.

When her breathing had eased just enough and her blood had stopped pounding unbelievably loud, she took in a slow breath and dared to glance at him through her fingers.

The rat bastard was smirking.

Smirking!

He was probably enjoying every…

Oh bloody hell. The bastard was taking her for a bloody ride! She was the mischievous glint in his eyes, the way the grin held pride and a puckish hint, and she especially noticed the way his body shook ever so slightly, as though he was fighting back the urge to laugh hysterically.

"You…you…" she snarled, pointing a shaking finger at him. "You liar! You made it all up! I knew it…it seemed too perfect…too embarrassing…you … tell me the truth! Tell me the bloody truth before I hex you until you believe that you are a fourteen-year-old girl in love with Justin Timberlake for the rest of your life!"

He arched a brow and almost asked her who Justin Timberlake was, if it weren't for the malicious glow in her eyes. She meant every word she said and he was now caught. Damn witch.

"All right," he sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "If you _must_ know, I do not wank off daily on your couch." He then grinned. "But the one time I had, it was the best wank I had ever had."

She moved to attack him and he held out his hands in defense. "But…but I did clean up afterwards. Thoroughly. The only reason I don't wank off there anymore is because the clean up takes too bloody long. Just a waste of time, so I decided not to do it there anymore…even though it was better than when I did it in the shower."

She took in a heavy breath and willed herself to not explode at him a second time. He was doing this to get a rise out of her; he enjoyed watching her scream and rage over such a silly matter.

This, she slowly noticed, was probably his revenge for her claims that he had been hiding.

"Okay…okay…you're a male…it's a natural process, completely natural for a male to do when he is unable to ignore his hormones. It's a completely natural process, and the shower is clean…so…nothing to worry about." She breathed deeply and rubbed her eyelids, finding just a thread of sanity and gripping onto it for dear life.

"Okay," she finally sighed, lowering her hand and glaring up at him. "I will go on pretending I never heard a single word you have said to me in the past ten minutes."

"Good," he grinned, finally moving away to head into the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of soda that had appeared in the fridge. "So, why were you so angry that I was _hiding_?"

She narrowed her gaze at him, moving to lean back against the couch. When he grinned, she leapt off of it as though burned and glared furiously at him. "If you _must_ know, I was not angry, simply frustrated."

"And why is that?" He turned around and opened the cupboard, content to find a bag of American chips.

Hermione watched him dump the food – if anyone were to even consider it as nourishing food – into a rather large bowl. "It's because of this," she gestured her arm over to the pile of Christmas decorations by the door. "It has all been just sitting there for the past week, untouched, and I did not buy all of that just so it could stay in the bags."

"So, you were waiting for me to decorate?" He put down the bowl as his mouth twisted in perplexity. "Why? Why didn't you just do all of the decorating yourself?"

She shrugged as she crossed her arms. "I have a few reasons. The first is that I plan on doing it the Muggle way, meaning no magic to lift anything or put anything in its spot. If I do it that way, I am far too short to reach several places I wish to decorate. You, on the other hand, are tall enough. The second reason," her pale cheeks became just slightly rosy, "is that I thought it would be nice if we did it together. I mean," she blurted, "you did help me buy them and we do share the Common Room, and it would be unfair if I did it all by myself and…"

He couldn't fight back the smile if he wanted to. His lips curled into the softest smile she had ever seen. It was smile that made his eyes glow and her heart pound furiously in her chest. It was the first time she had ever seen Draco Malfoy smile with true contentment.

"I think that it's a great idea," he said. "That way, I can make sure that you don't make the Common Room look like a mess."

She glared at his amazing ability to ruin a perfectly good situation. "You prat."

He grinned, tossing a chip into his mouth. "I know. And we're using magic."

"We are not."

"You think that we're not, but we will be using magic."

"You think that we are, but we certainly will not be using magic."

"And why is that?"

"Because I will steal your wand and hide it."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would. Now get your lazy arse over here and help me start decorating."

"Not until you agree to use magic."

She lifted her head and rolled her eyes at him, ready to reply with a sarcastic remark when someone banged on the door.

He frowned and glanced at the entrance, before glancing back over to Hermione, who did not look the least surprised to hear the knock. "Granger, who did you invite over?"

She smiled at him. "I have had a discussion with a certain mischievous boy who likes to take photographs. We have come up with an agreement of sorts."

"An agreement that was made without my knowledge," he growled, moving over to her. "You know very well that I am just as affected as you are by that pathetic photograph. What sort of agreement did you make?"

Hermione looked over to him, pausing halfway to the door. "It was a simple agreement. He will give us the photograph in exchange for other photographs." She continued before Draco could rage. "I told him that he could take as many pictures of us decorating as he wanted to. Those," she added, "we can easily create a back-story to that everyone will believe."

"And how did he know that we would be decorating today?" Draco took another step forward.

"He didn't. He has been showing up every day for the past week and I have been turning him down because you have been 'wanking' off." She grinned and moved to open the door. "I suppose today is his lucky day."

"But why can't he just take _one_ picture and leave?"

She spun around and placed her hands on her hips. "Because, that one picture he took is worth a million words and can ruin our reputations. I find it perfectly acceptable for him to waste a roll of film on use arguing about using magic while decorating."

"I suppose it does make some sense," he said after a moment's hesitation. "But…do we get the picture right away? You're certain that he has not made any copies?"

Hermione grinned. "I told him that if he made copies that we didn't know about, I would let you hex him and then leave him in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Naked."

"You are one cruel witch, did you know that?"

"Yes." She opened the door, revealing the mousy haired before, camera in one hand, a very, very, very, important picture in the other. "Hullo Dennis."

"Hi Hermione," he squeaked. "Here's…here's your picture."

Hermione snatched it before Draco could, folded it up and shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans. "Thank you Dennis. Now, come on in. We were just about to get started."

Their idea of getting started was by pulling out the decorations and arguing loudly about the best way to the check the light bulbs and whether or not they should use magic. Eventually, Draco won in the matter of verifying which light bulbs worked, while Hermione produced a small ladder for Draco to climb up on and hang the bulbs.

While he worked his way with the light bulbs on the tree, she began the slow process of twining other strands of lights around garland, which would then be strung around their bookshelves, on top of the fireplace and around the railings for the stairs.

Dennis, all the while, leapt about, taking picture after picture, capturing every second of their experience on his roll of film.

As soon as he was finished with the tree, Hermione set him on the task of decorating the bookshelves while she did the lower sections. Dennis caught on film the blond man using magic to hang the garland, and then the furious argument between Draco and Hermione after the brunette had caught him.

Once they had finished with that part, Hermione took out several gold and silver candles, placed them into their festive holders and put them on the ends of the shelf above the fireplace.

"You bought candles? When the hell did you buy candles?"

She glanced over to Draco as he stepped down from the ladder, finished with the bookshelves. "I bought them two days ago, when you were 'hiding,'" she replied.

"Are they scented?" He marched over and yanked a red taper from her hand, sniffing it. "Ugh, they're scented!"

"Yes. I bought gingerbread, pine, cinnamon, this special white snow one, and cranberry. I got these lovely holders, too." She lifted up a few holders, a couple were simple wreaths of holly or poinsettia, while another was similar to a snow globe and one more was a replica of Father Christmas, the stars on his jacket open to let the light escape.

"Why the hell did you waste so much money on this?" he cried, picking up the Father Christmas one.

"They were on sale, actually, and I love them. They add to the Christmas spirit."

"Bloody hell," he groaned, rubbing his face as Dennis took picture after picture. "Do what you want, just give me the damn Icicles."

She handed the bag of Everlasting Icicles to him and went back to coordinating the candles with the appropriate holder. By the time she had set up the candles, as well as several snowmen and Father Christmas plushies, he had completed his task of hanging the Icicles, with the aid of magic, no doubt.

They set up the task of placing the flowers around the Common Room and Draco was surprised to find that, although Hermione had bought a large amount of items, the room did not look overcrowded. Grinning, she winked at Dennis as she levitated a sprig of mistletoe to hang just at the base of the stairs. Draco had had his back turned, focused intently on how to place a vase of poinsettia.

Hermione's choice on the base of the stairs was simple enough; the mistletoe could remain a piece of decoration simply because they never crossed paths at the bottom of the stairs. Maybe only once during their cohabitation had they met up at the bottom of the steps.

Behind Hermione's back, however, Dennis recorded her mischievous spirit on camera without her knowledge.

"All right, the Common Room is done," Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair. "The Muggle version of things takes a lot less time than I had thought it would."

"That's because you cheated half the time by using magic," Hermione replied, heading into the kitchen to pull out three glasses and a jug of juice from the fridge.

"I only used it that one time," Draco replied, taking the jug and pouring himself a glass of the juice – which was not pumpkin, a flavour he had grown quite sick of three years ago.

"We'll see when we get the photographs," she replied, taking back the jug. "Well, we only have the tree left."

Dennis simply watched as they spoke, not wanting to intrude on their conversation. He sipped the juice, camera hanging loosely around his neck.

"I suppose we have no choice but to do it today," Draco sighed, adjusting his sleeves, which he had rolled up halfway through decorating the bookshelves.

Dennis began to grin as he watched their interaction, finding the way they held themselves, how they stood around the kitchen, Hermione seated on the counter, Draco lounging against the table, made him think of two people who were clearly comfortable and in-tune with one another.

They seemed to perfectly know and understand each other and he was not blind; he had noticed the passion between them, either when they fought or they simply gazed at each other from across the room. He saw the sparks and knew that it would take very little to ignite them into a full-blown flame.

They would make an adorable couple.

"No magic on the tree," Hermione reminded Draco as they moved from the kitchen, tugging the young Creevey boy from his fantasies.

"Technically, we already used magic on the tree," Draco pointed out; "we levitated it here and used magic to put it in the magical holder than magically refills with water every day."

"I've never heard someone use the word 'magic' so often in a single sentence." She rolled her eyes as she pulled out boxes of various ornaments.

"I was hoping to prove a point," Draco added, sitting down on the floor beside her to open a long strand of garland and untangle it. "Gold and silver garland for the tree?"

"Seeing as we used all of the red and green for the room, I suppose that we have no choice." Hermione stood up, carefully placing the box on the table. "Now, I would assume that the garland goes on first…"

"I think you put the lights on first," piped up Dennis. "I…I think that's how my dad used to do it…" he stammered as Draco turned to glare at him.

"I think he's right," Hermione added before Draco could say something harsh to the poor boy. "It makes a little bit more sense."

"How so? By covering the lights with the garland?" Draco asked, unable to find the logic in it.

"How about this," Hermione suggested, "we do the same thing that we did with the rest of the room; wrap the lights and garland together and put them on the tree like that. How does that sound?"

"Makes a lot more sense than what both of you just said," he snorted, tugging over the light bulbs to begin the long process of twining them around the garland. While doing so, he lit them – _With a touch of the wand, you can make the whole room glow!_ – and proceeded to find any faulty ones.

Hermione bit back any crude or sarcastic remark she had wanted to say and grabbed the silver garland, twining the second string of bulbs around it.

The procedure did not take as long as they thought it would; having done it already quite a bit, they had gotten the hang of things and had developed their own techniques to make it go faster. Within minutes they were wrapping the garland-bulbs strings around the tree, the lights blinking on and off every few seconds in their faces. Draco nearly got annoyed enough to knock down the tree when he was stuck behind it for a good two minutes, face plastered to the blinking bulbs as Hermione moved to shift the tree so that the blond could get out.

"It could have been worse," Hermione pointed out as Draco ranted and raved.

"Please explain," Draco replied sardonically, not in the mood to deal with her chastising and pleased tone.

"At least you're not epileptic."

"And what does that have to do with anything?" he cried, ready to pick up the nearest ball and toss it at the nearest head.

"People with epilepsy have a tendency to have seizures when they stare at flashing lights for a while, like strobe lights. So, let's be thankful that you are not severely epileptic and did not have a seizure while stuck behind the Christmas tree." She suddenly demonstrated a smirk that made Draco feel just slightly proud. He felt like he had taught her to smirk in that way. "Although…I suppose I wouldn't have to hear your bitching if you'd had a seizure."

"You're a bitch," he growled.

"And you are the result of crossbreeding ferrets and cockroaches," she replied with a smile. "Here, you take this pack and I'll take this one. We'll start from the top down."

Draco turned to Dennis, who was currently fighting back fits of laughter, and glared at the younger boy. "You laugh at a single one of her remarks; I will personally remove every little masculine bit of you. Understood?"

Dennis let out a little squeak of fear and nodded furiously, gulping down any laughter caught in his throat. "Y…yes."

"Draco, you really are a prat. Don't threaten the poor boy like that," Hermione sighed, not even glancing in their direction; she had heard every word.

"I refuse to let some little Gryffindork laugh at me while you attempt to insult me," Draco replied, moving over to hang bulbs on the opposite side of the tree.

"Let him laugh a little bit; there's no harm in that. Here, just so you don't whine," she turned her head to look at Dennis, "if Malfoy here says something funny, even if it's an insult directed towards me, you can laugh. There," she turned back to the tree and Draco, "happy?"

"I suppose," he grumbled, reaching up to hang a silver-laced purple ball near the top of the tree.

The rest of the decoration went on in silence, the twosome hanging the ornaments strategically around the tree to make it look decorated by not overcrowded. It soon began to glimmer and glow on its own account, with help from the fireplace's warm glow, and it transformed from a simple pine tree to a beautiful, shimmering one.

As each ball was hung, Hermione felt her Christmas spirit increase tenfold, grasping tightly around her heart as flutters of joy flitted about in her stomach. She felt her body relax, even though she was so close to Draco, and she felt at ease and almost as home.

The scene was picture perfect and every second was captured on Dennis's camera. The couple hung every bulb; Hermione gnawing on her lip as she thought, Draco simply leaning over and placing a ball wherever he wished. Dennis stood back and took photograph after photograph, watching the scene slowly unfold until he saw more sparks in the air.

He saw how relaxed and comfortable they were, witnessed their easy interactions and understanding of each other. He watched and thought, '_They look like they've been married for years.'_

To him, they were perfection. If one had a flaw, the other made up for it. Watching them decorate was like watching a kind of mating dance or ritual, they moved in unison, each pausing for the right amount of time before they hung a ball. Every glance made was one filled with passion but masked just enough so that the other did not see it.

But Dennis saw everything.

Everything was going on perfectly until…

_Crash. Tinkle_.

"Shit!"

"Wow, Granger, you _swore_!"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy."

Draco looked around the tree to find Hermione standing on one foot, hopping her way back to the sofa to examine her right foot. Glancing down, Draco saw the shards of a broken ball strewn about the ground and he looked over to the woman. "Good job, Granger, break a bloody ball. At least I'm not the one who paid for them."

"Shove it, Malfoy," she replied sharply, sitting down and lifting her bare foot to examine it for any scrapes or cuts.

"Did it land on your foot or did you step on it?" Draco asked, leaning down to pick up another ball to hang.

"More or less on it," she replied, rubbing the top where she was sure she would get a bruise. "But I stepped on a few pieces, so I want to make sure I'm not cut."

"This is why you should wear socks or slippers when hanging stuff made of glass," Draco chastised.

"Sod off, Malfoy. This is the first time I've every broken an ornament so don't start acting all righteous." She pulled out her wand, cleaning and healing the very small cut under her big toe.

"And I haven't broken a single one so far," he reminded her. "And, I'm wearing slippers in case one does break."

"I didn't even know you _had_ slippers." She stood up, summoning her slippers from her bedroom.

Draco lifted a foot, showing off fuzzy green slippers. "They're fuzzy and green," he said with a grin. "Blaise first enchanted them to look and hiss like snakes but I got annoyed with them hissing all night long, so I disenchanted them."

Hermione grabbed hers from the air and plopped them on the ground to slide her feet into them.

Draco arched a brow at her. "Leopard print? To be honest, I never would've thought of you as an animal print kind of girl."

"Gag gift from a Muggle friend. She thought I needed something with a little pizzazz in my wardrobe. I also have zebra and tiger prints."

"With little bows on the top," he added with a grin. "Isn't that cute?"

"Be careful Draco or I'm going to magic those glass shards into your arse. Let's see you smiling then," she threatened, lifting her wand with the actual intent to clean and repair.

Rolling his eyes, the blond went back to hanging his ornaments. Hermione then fixed and cleaned the ball, hanging back in its spot. Once every one was hung, they stood back to look at their handiwork.

"I'll admit, I might have enjoyed decorating with you, Granger," Draco muttered, keeping his voice low enough so that Dennis couldn't overhear.

She smiled, keeping her sight focused on the tree. "And I might have enjoyed decorating with you, Malfoy. You did a lovely job."

Just as the awkwardness began to creep in, both beginning to shift uncomfortably as they stood next to each other in front of the fireplace, Hermione stepped forward and clapped her hands.

"All right, one more thing to do, or, well, two, and then we're done!" She moved over to the bag and pulled out a rectangular box, from which she pulled out a glass angel. The long skirts were painted white and its long blonde hair seemed to glow on its own accord. The halo hung without strings or attachments and the beautiful face painted on looked almost realistic.

"An angel? What are we supposed to do with that?"

She turned to Draco and handed the glass sculpture to him. "You put it on top of the tree. It's tradition to put either an angel or a star on the top of Christmas trees. I haven't done any research, but I'll assume that the angel represents the angels coming down from heaven to announce Jesus Christ's birth, and the star is the one the Wise Kings followed to reach Bethlehem."

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about but I'll assume you want me to hang the damn thing," Draco muttered, summoning the step ladder to him. "On the top, right?"

"Yes," she replied, moving back to watch him place the angel on the tree. "I labeled a branch earlier; there will be a small red mark on it. There's a hole on the bottom so you can slide the angel onto the branch. And don't drop it."

"Don't worry, Granger, I've got it," he replied, reaching up to gingerly place the angel on the top of the tree.

Hermione watched him with arms crossed, feeling the strangely familiar sensation of butterflies in her stomach grow with every second. Her eyes roamed over his body, trailing up his long legs to his muscular back, finally reaching the golden locks on the back of his head. She felt fire slowly spread through her body, igniting every organ, every nerve ending, until her body was suffused in a warm glow.

She felt a smile slowly tug at her lips as her cheeks blushed red, her heart slowly beginning to pound in her chest as the fire turned to liquid heat in her abdomen. Swallowing thickly, she was grateful for the sound of Dennis's camera clicking away. It pulled her back to the present and she quickly averted her eyes.

"There."

Her gaze was suddenly pulled back to him and she felt her lips curl into a broad smile. The second the angel had touched the tree, it had lit up. The wings on her back slowly unfurled, glowing brightly in the room. The room lit up with blinking lights and the glow of the angel.

Her eyes fell on Draco's face, lit by the angel, softened by the light and glow. She saw the way his eyes shimmered in the light, how his lips turned upwards in a boyish grin as he saw, for the first time in his life, an angel lit on the top of a Christmas tree.

He turned and grinned at her and she smiled back, feeling the blush and odd sensations return to her body as she felt his gaze burning her.

Dennis smiled broadly as he captured every second on camera, bathing in the love and passion that slowly filled the air.

It was so unbelievably perfect.

**Jeeze, took me long enough, eh?**

**Alright, time for my excuses!**

**I have been very, very, very angry at my computer for the past while. It is old and my charger no longer works properly. Meaning my battery is so dead it won't be charged in any other laptop and the second the charger is shifted the wrong way my laptop shuts off. I am in the process of saving up enough money to buy a new laptop, but that will take some time. So, due to my anger, I have not been able to write because my laptop has a tendency to irk me.**

**I have been very busy with work (I work about forty hours a week) and I also go to the gym frequently. I have also purchased several things in the past months (Bones Seasons 1 and 2, LEGO Star Wars, and Too Human) which have succeeded in distracting me. Entirely my fault.**

**I have also been spending time with my fiancée (who lives about a forty-five minute drive away) and whenever I'm there, I can't type (it's the rules, lol). I also spent a weekend away for my birthday.**

**Essentially, I just haven't made enough time to write. I have also been caught in a slight writer's block, but now it is broken and I am making more time to write (basically because I'm broke and can't touch my laptop money). **

**Okay, so, just to let you know, I have the next two chapters lined up in my brain and intend on writing them and posting them within the next week. I know that some of you may not believe me, especially after such a long wait, but I promise it will be up within the next week.**

**I'm very sorry for making you all wait so long. I intend on being done before the end of February. **

**Reviews:**

**Constructive criticism/editing of grammar mistakes, spelling, etc... - very much welcome  
Adoration and love - very, very, very welcome  
Flames - Psh. Obviously used to ignite the flame of passion between Hermione and Draco.**

**Thank you all for your patience. I will post a recipe in the next chapter (maybe something more Valentine's Day'ish). **

**Sorry again for the wait!!!**


	13. It Began with Blue Fire

**Just a little tidbit of information: as I wrote pretty most of the Hermione-Draco bit, I was listening to Enigma: Love Sensuality and Devotion (only a few of the songs, Sadness Pt. 1, for example). It kind of fit the mood I was establishing.**

**Another tidbit: I interpret/make the characters as I want. Please do not start asking me if or when I will make so-and-so such-and-such. While I appreciate constructive criticism, I will not change the characters to conform to your thoughts or ideals. We have the freedom to write what we want however we want (so long as it's legible and not overly offensive). Please do not try and change my characters (or, well, my interpretation of J.K's) because they don't conform to your interpretation. I will simply ignore the 'request'.**

**Just had to get that out.**

**Warning: Some not-too-explicit SoloF later on. I will not put up a giant warning before it occurs because I find it breaks the story and ruins the flow. **

**Here's chapter 12!!**

**Chapter 12**

**It Began with Blue Fire**

"I appreciate that you agreed to meet with me; I wasn't sure if we would be able to get away with this."

"You, Mr. Potter, might not have been able to 'get away' with anything, but I have nothing to 'get away' with. Now, please explain why you desperately needed this meeting so that I can get back to making sure that Hagrid does not over-decorate the Great Hall."

Harry glanced across the table to take in the form of Minerva McGonagall, covered from head to toe in outer-gear. Harry, on the other hand, had Apparated to the Three Broomsticks and had found that all he needed was a jacket.

They had established this meeting five days ago, on Tuesday, and Harry had been most grateful.

"It's to discuss Hermione."

Professor McGonagall lifted a brow, although the movement was hardly noticeable under her hat, and pursed her lips. "I understand that she stayed behind for the holidays while you and Mr. Weasley chose not to. If this is on Mr. Weasley's behalf, I would like to state that you are wasting your time."

"No, I'm not doing this for Ron," Harry interjected. "I'm doing this on my own; Ron doesn't even know about it. For all he knows, I'm doing some last minute Christmas shopping for him."

McGonagall lightly tapped the bottle of Butterbeer in front of her, nodding for him to continue as she gave him her approval. She had found it extremely odd when she had received his letter. He had begged her to meet with him, in private – although one could hardly call the Three Broomsticks private –, and said that it was an urgent affair.

It was only because of past experience with Mr. Potter did she agree to this meeting.

If it turned out to be because he was upset that Hermione had remained behind, she would give Harry detention for the rest of his life.

"Anyway," Harry sighed, glancing briefly around the resto-pub (A/N: I would assume that the Three Broomsticks would be like a resto-pub, not really a bar, not really a restaurant) before moving back to his Headmistress, "I believe I need your help. Before we left, I never really got to _speak_ with Hermione and I had neglected to remind her that her parents are staying at the Burrow with us. The problem with that is that Hermione's here and her parents are there."

McGonagall slowly nodded, understanding two things: 1) Harry was indeed telling the truth about Hermione's parents, 2) her parents not being notified about their daughter's decision was not the true reason he had set up this meeting. She, however, decided to see how things would play out and she would see what he really wanted.

"I'll assume that her parents were not notified of this?"

"I don't think Hermione got the chance to tell them or I'm positive that they wouldn't be staying at the Burrow. They're Muggles and I think that they might be uncomfortable in a magical environment without their daughter there to explain everything."

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall interrupted, "I must say that you are making a poor argument. Would you please keep to the truth and not lie to me? You are a very poor liar." She uncapped her Butterbeer and took a tentative sip.

Harry sighed heavily; he had not intended on telling the whole truth to McGonagall. He had feared that she would immediately refuse his request and he desperately needed to talk to Hermione alone. Ron was sulking more than a five-year-old who was denied candy, and things were becoming increasingly tense at the Burrow as the Weasleys worried incessantly about the arrival of the Grangers.

Things were definitely not going as planned and Harry feared that this Christmas might wind up being catastrophic. Especially since Mrs. Weasley had begun to rant and rave about the brunette's decision to remain behind. No one could talk any sense into Molly; even Arthur had given up the day before when she had begun shouting in the kitchen about ungrateful people.

Harry was growing increasingly agitated, which was further augmented by Ginny, who believed in trying to placate everyone but Ron, who she always seemed to irk to the point of explosion. Ron now completely ignored her, which was the result of a rather passionate row they had had just the day before.

To add to everything going on, George was trying to entertain everyone with jokes, which either succeeded or failed miserably and resulted in rows – usually started by Ron. Bill and Fleur was arriving any day with little Victoire, and apparently Fleur was simply appalled at Hermione's decision to remain at Hogwarts. Bill, when they had spoken via the Floo Network, had looked more curious than anything and he had given Harry a look that bewildered him to this very day. Percy seemed to be unaffected by Hermione's decision; however, he may have been too distracted by his fiancée, Audrey. Charlie's response was unknown; he was still on his way back from Romania and they had not heard a word from him in the past two days.

To say the least, the house was loud and boisterous, but not all noise was merry and it was slowly grating on Harry's sanity.

He had to find a solution to the situation and he knew that only McGonagall could help him achieve it.

"Okay," he sighed, giving in. He had no choice; he needed her help and if being honest was going to get it, then he would have to be honest. "I have a lot of unanswered questions for Hermione. Ever since she decided to stay behind at Hogwarts, things have gotten really messed up. Ron's being even more of a prat than usual and there is a lot of fighting going on at the Burrow. I just want to talk to her face-to-face and know, for sure, that her decision is really for the best."

McGonagall slowly nodded her head. "And you would like to grant you access to the school even though you are supposed to be on vacation? You must know that you already have easy access; you can Apparate in Hogsmeade and walk in. Why do you need my help with that?"

"It's not as easy as it should be," Harry quietly admitted. "I want to see her without alerting anyone to my presence; I want it to be confidential. I don't need Ron hearing about me sneaking back to Hogwarts and getting the wrong ideas."

"And how do you propose you may achieve this?"

Harry glanced down at his untouched Butterbeer, finding that the purchase had been an absolute waste of money. "I was wondering if you may be able to set up a temporary Floo link between the Burrow and the Heads' Common Room."

McGonagall frowned down at the young man, wondering if his head was screwed on properly. "Mr. Potter, are you aware of just how much work that would be? I would have to contact the Ministry and Floo Network, go through various individuals and waste perfectly good correcting and relaxing time. All because you want to have a discussion with Ms. Granger? I'm sorry, but I don't think I will agree to this."

Harry jumped up as McGonagall moved to stand and leave. "Wait, please," he said in desperation. "I…I really need to talk to her. It's important; if we don't talk, I'm afraid things will get even worse at the Burrow. I promise that Ron has no idea of what I'm planning and will not be playing any part in it. I'm the only one involved."

"And how do you propose you get the Ministry to agree to such a request? I know that the dark times are behind us, but we must still have some sense of precaution." McGonagall adjusted her hat, finding his request asinine and childish. If he just wanted some answers from the girl, then he could easily Owl her.

"I have no other way to talk to her. I can't risk going through the school and alerting everyone to my presence, using a Portkey is out of the question, and I can't Owl her because someone else might find and read the letters." He jerked, almost as though he yearned to reach out and grasp her arms. "Please, Headmistress, I need to talk with her. I'm desperate."

"I will ask again; how do you propose you get the Ministry to agree?" McGonagall's face softened just the slightest as she saw the desperation in Harry's eyes. The boy may have the silliest of reasons for such a difficult request, but she had to give him points in effort and passion.

Maybe there was more than he was letting on…

"We…we can say it's a special Christmas present," he said after a moment's contemplation. "A special gift and we can agree to a specific time slot. I'll have to Floo here at a specific time and Floo back after another specified time. I'll agree to any restrictions they put on it, just as long as they agree to my request. Please…I'm afraid that our friendship depends on this."

She let out a quiet sigh and looked over the young man in front of her. Gone were the days of his youth and childish ideals, past were the innocent thoughts and dreams, and now, in the child's place, stood a man who had endured the harshness of war and death. A man begging for her to help fix something someone else had broken.

He was a matured man; he had aged quickly over the years and she could see that the wheels turned just a little more in his head. He understood things a little more now…

Closing her eyes, she thought of what Dumbledore might do in such a situation. She could just barely make out the image of his twinkling eyes in her mind; it felt like forever since she had last spoken to his living form.

"I suppose…it would do no harm to ask the Floo Network," she said. "However," she added as his eyes glowed with joy, "I can't make any promises. I will try but if they refuse the request, I can do no more."

Harry grinned broadly and fought the urge to hug the older woman. "Thank you, Minerva, you'll never regret it." Taking a quick sip of his Butterbeer, he rushed out of the Three Broomsticks.

McGonagall stood there and smiled. He was a good man, despite his faults, and he meant well. She only hoped that this went over well in the end.

* * *

Yawning, the blond stretched his arms high above his head as he stepped down in the Common Room. Rubbing his eyes, Draco slowly looked around the Common Room, finding it to be lit by a faint, blue light.

He shrugged slightly, reminding himself that Hermione had thrown the blue Rainbow Powder into the fire a few days ago to change the flames' colour. Making his way to the kitchen, scratching at his exposed stomach, he pulled out the various materials he needed for a good Sunday morning breakfast.

The second the orange juice touched his tongue, Draco spat out the drink as his mind unclouded and he came to a very scary realization.

"Granger! Get your arse down here right now!"

Hermione, who had been sleeping contentedly in her bed, had leapt out at the sound of urgency in the blond's voice. Without even thinking about clothes, she found herself sprinting down the stairs to stop at the bottom.

"What? What is it?"

Draco gestured wildly to the fireplace, sending orange juice splashing over the counter. "How much of that damn powder did you put into the fireplace?"

She turned her gaze from him to the fireplace, which still glowed in a soft but vibrant bluish hue. "I…I don't exactly remember. Maybe a handful. Why? Is that really why you dragged me out of bed for? Goodness," she sighed loudly, "you're a real piece of work at times. I'm going back to bed and don't wake me up unless the Dark Lord has risen again."

"You are a bloody idiot!"

She spun around on her heel, eyes narrowed at him. "You should know better than to insult me before noon, Malfoy. I don't appreciate being woken up for the most asinine of things and then called an idiot."

He was completely oblivious to her words as he performed several mental calculations, the results of which he was not pleased with.

"You were only supposed to put a pinch of the powder in!"

"And that matters because?" she snapped, any thoughts of having a good day gone from the moment he had shouted for her to 'get her arse' out of bed.

"Because a pinch of the stuff lasts 12 hours. You used a handful! The fireplace will be blue for a good week thanks to you!" Draco cried, rounding on her.

"And how was I supposed to know that?" she replied sharply.

"It was written on the side of the damn box!"

"Oh," she said suddenly, stopping in her steps to contemplate the situation. Her cheeks flushed a bright red with embarrassment as she thought over everything. "And I had read the box, hadn't I?"

"We both read it," he replied, lowering his voice when he realized that shouting was going to get them nowhere. "But I wasn't the one to dump a shitload into the fire."

"Thanks for the observation," she said sarcastically, sending a furious glare in his direction. "I'll assume that there's no way to get the stuff out?" She moved over to the mantel, taking the box down in order to read the instructions and cautions.

"No way at all; it's permanent until all of the powder is used up," Draco replied, waving his wand lazily to clean up the spilt juice.

"And we can't just dump another colour in there?" she asked distractedly.

"No possible way," he said. "Once a powder is in there, it must completely burn out before another colour is added. It could either have disastrous effects, such as lighting the whole Common Room on fire, or the other colour will not even burn until the first one is done."

"So I've screwed us over, haven't I?"

"Yes, and I am not looking forward to having a blue Common Room for the next week."

"Well neither am I," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "I can't believe we made such a silly mistake."

He goggled at her, watching as she made her way back to lean against the wall by the staircase. "We? _We?_ Do you honestly expect me to take the slightest bit of blame for this? I wasn't the one who dumped half a pack in the fireplace _after_ reading the instructions. Sorry, but there's no 'we' in this case. It's entirely your fault."

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, there is definitely a 'we.' If I remember correctly, you _watched_ me put the powder into the fire. You didn't even think of stopping me when I did it, so we both to blame," she snorted without hesitation.

"But you performed the action, therefore you are to blame," he replied, crossing his arms over his bare chest as he prepared himself for a good row.

"And you did nothing to prevent the consequences," she snapped, placing both hands on her hips as she glared in his direction. Already he had woken her up on the wrong side of the bed and she was in the mood for a good argument. Maybe, once this argument was done and over with, she may be able to have a good, relaxing day.

"Because of your stupidity, our Common Room is going to be glowing _blue_ for a whole fucking week!" he cried, gesturing angrily with his hand. "Because you either have the memory of a dying 90-year-old Muggle or because you are simply stupid."

"So I'm the one with the bad memory? Then explain to me how I can remember all of the correct answers for tests and always end up beating you." She pointed furiously at him. "I am _not_ the one with the faulty brain. I made a mistake, but _you_ let me make it."

"I _let_ you? I _let_ you make a mistake? Oh, Salazar forbid Granger ever make a mistake!" Draco took a step forward, emphasizing every word with his body as it grew taut with pure frustration and indignation. "You're not used to taking responsibility for your actions, are you? Dumbledore's little pet, always getting away with everything. Grow up, Granger. It's time you faced the consequences of your mistakes."

"I was _never_ Dumbledore's pet and you know it! You're just jealous because he preferred me over you because I was not a bloody git." She matched his step with her own, hands flailing about with increasing irritation. "And I make mistakes just like every other person out there, and I _always_ take responsibility, unlike a certain ferret I know. At least I don't blame everything on First Years or people too stupid to defend themselves."

"I never did any of that," he cried, feet reaching the carpeted floor as he left the kitchen. "I _always_ took responsibility. And I am _not_ a git or a ferret!"

"You are definitely a ferrety git," she hissed, standing close enough to poke his shoulder. "You reek like one. And please, name one time where you actually took responsibility instead of avoiding the repercussions, trying to talk your way out of the consequences, or laid them on someone else."

"I can name you several, you Gryffindork bitch," he growled, poking her back, eyes flashing dangerously as he looked down at her. "At least I didn't use my friends. How many actual detentions have you had, Granger? I'll bet it was that one time back in first year, before you became the pet to every teacher in this school."

"I am no teacher's pet," she snarled, moving just a little bit closer. "I also never used my friends. I went to any detentions given to me without any protest and I never once used my daddy as a way to avoid punishment."

He lowered his eyes, grey steel meeting flaming whiskey as he growled low in his throat. "I would _never_ use my pathetic excuse of a father to get out of punishment."

"Name me one time where daddy's name didn't come up at the first sign of trouble for poor Drakey-poo," she said with a crude smile.

They were a breath's distance from one another, panting heavily as they argued furiously, bodies tight with tension, blood boiling in their veins from something more than just the irritation.

For a brief moment, his eyes flickered down to her full lips, a second's worth of contemplation passing through his mind. At the same time, her eyes fell to his lips, wondering, briefly, if she would dare kiss him again like she had in the hall a week ago.

Her head was suddenly thrown forward into his chest, her body pushed awkwardly against his as a large, brown, feathery creature came hurtling through a window Draco had opened the night before to create a draft.

Rubbing the back of head, cursing quietly under her breath, Hermione dragged her gaze over to the owl standing on the countertop, obviously weighed down by a very heavy package. She was secretly glad for this moment's reprieve; she has been a millimeter away from kissing the disgusting prat in front of her.

Now she had more time to think about her failing sanity.

Draco watched, unconsciously rubbing his chest, as she made her way quickly over to the owl. Untying the package, she opened the fridge and fed the other a few grapes before the creature took flight.

"You should know better than to keep the windows open like that," she said after a moment's awkward silence.

Draco glared over to her. "You were the one who suggested we open it last night."

"But, if you had not opened it, or had remembered to close it before going to bed, I would not have been hit in the back of the head by a large owl carrying…" she opened the package labeled for her and grinned, "a laptop, charger, and several CDs and DVDs."

Most definitely distracted now, Draco leaned over the counter to look at the various Muggle items. "What's a lab-top?"

"_Lap_top, Malfoy. It's a Muggle device that allows us to use Internet to view things all over the world. I can talk to people from Canada and even China. It also contains more information than a library of any size could ever have," she explained. "It's a Muggle way of passing information."

"Sounds boring," Draco yawned. "Now that you are too interested in your bloody Muggle things to finish our good row, I'll head off to get dressed."

She watched him head for the stairs, only now fully aware that he was barely dressed. Her gaze roamed over his bare back, taking in the lean, muscled form of his body. With each move a new muscle rippled and she had to swallow the copious amounts of saliva that suddenly filled her mouth. His arms were long and strong, very much like the rest of him. His shoulders were wide but not too wide; like between Charlie and Ron – Charlie had very broad shoulders while Ron almost lacked that part of anatomy.

His pajama pants rode low on his hips, exposing two little dimples on his lower back, just below were the slight curve of his buttocks began.

She was suddenly overwhelmed with the inexplicable urge to have him turn around.

"Thank goodness, I thought that my retinas were just about shot at the sight of your half-naked body," she retorted.

She silently admonished herself for making up such a pathetic reply when all thoughts died away as he turned around.

Hell, she was so glad that she had succeeded in it.

He had, as she had speculated, a broad but lean chest. His pectoral muscles were defined, but not quite so that they looked like muscular breasts. His waist was slim, accented by the six-pack that adorned his stomach. Like his pecs, his abs were not overly defined, just visible enough to be sexy without being overly muscular. Her eyes tugged further down his torso, gulping loudly as she saw the way the light played with a patch of fine, blond hair that trailed its way from just under his bellybutton into his pants.

Hell, and she had thought the lines of his hips to be erotic enough. The sight of the hair only further reminded her of what lay under those pants.

She suddenly became acutely aware of the deafening silence of the room.

She was, however, unaware of the smoldering look in his eyes as he finally acknowledged her physical presence.

What woman in her right mind wore short-shorts and a tiny tank-top to bed in the middle of December?

He felt his body harden as the sight of her lean, curvy body clad in only a small top and even smaller shorts. The pale green material made her legs look miles long while her breasts actually strained against the white cotton of her top. The combination gave her an hourglass shape that was to die for. He swallowed thickly as her breasts heaved when she exhaled loudly.

Dear Salazar, the woman was so unbelievably enticing. There she stood, probably freezing to death in the damn outfit, looking so commanding and in-control. He wanted to pick out every imperfection; the slight, almost imperceptible roundness of her abdomen, how her knees were almost too bony, her feet small, but he could find no imperfection.

The air grew thick with heady need as their bodies slowly welcomed the burning arousal into their systems. His eyes burned like quicksilver, heart pattering wildly in his chest as her whiskey orbs aged and darkened. Her lower lip was sucked into her mouth, teeth gnawing on it as her breasts tightened with need.

He bit back a groan as he watched her nipples harden under the cotton top. Twin peaks, just jutting out there, begging to be suckled and kissed.

He felt himself growing hard, his erection digging painfully against the silk of his pants, begging to be released and shoved into the nearest warm and moist cavern. Gooseflesh rose over his skin as he watched her heave in air, saw the way her skin became suddenly flushed and bronzed.

She was shivering, perhaps from cold or perhaps from arousal; she wasn't too certain anymore. Her abdomen was clenching over and over again, molten heat pooling in her womb to leak onto her knickers. She unconsciously squeezed her thighs shut, unaware of what it did to the blond before her. She was slowly finding that these reactions were less strange and more familiar. As she went over them, she quickly assessed that her body was becoming aroused.

But why was it Draco Malfoy who made her body so feverish with need? Why was it never Ron or Krum? What was it about Draco Malfoy that it made her body ache for his touch?

She…she needed to think things…really think over everything…

Swallowing thickly, she grabbed her belongings, all thoughts of breakfast and blue fires thrust out of her mind. She tried to skirt around him as best as she could but he reached out, grasping her upper arm in a loose but commanding grip.

"Granger…"

His voice was deep, holding a note of sensuality and carnal promises. It was more than enough to fuel the fear welling inside of her body.

"Please, let me go," she whispered, afraid of what would happen if she raised her voice.

He paused for a moment and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. She was both terrified and excited at the thought.

When he let go of her arm, she couldn't mask the disappointment that welled within her. Lowering her head, she moved past him and hurried up the stairs as fast as her jellied legs could take her.

* * *

The second the door had shut, she quickly locked it, shutting and locking the door to their adjoining bath before placing the laptop and essentials onto her desk. A moment later, she was lying on her bed, tugging the sheets over her head and she willed herself to find a thread of sanity.

What the hell was going on why her? Why was she becoming so aroused at the slightest thought of Draco Malfoy?

It had to have been that bloody kiss, she noted, rubbing her face furiously with a groan as the reminder of the kiss only increased the heat between her thighs. The kiss had made things awkward and weird, uncomfortably intimate between them, and they hadn't been able to deal with it.

Moaning in frustration, she rolled over and buried her face into her pillow, wishing that she could go back in time and stop them from having ever stood under the mistletoe. She wanted to stop this frustration and unease, wishing that things could return to the way they were before the fateful mistletoe event.

Another part of her, a part she was just getting to know and understand, warred with these thoughts and emotions. This part told her that the mistletoe event was worth it; she would never forget the taste of Draco's lips on hers. She would never forget the way it felt to have his breath mingling with hers as they stood nose-to-nose, ready to embark on a journey they made never be able to end. She would never forget the way his body felt against hers, warm and strong to her soft and pliant, exuding a heat so powerful it wrapped itself around her core and warmed her very being. But, most of all, she would never forget the way he had held her face tenderly in his hands as he looked down at her.

She would never forget the soothing kindness she had seen in those eyes.

Eyes that were now stormy with arousal.

So…if he was just as aroused as she saw…why didn't she give into her desires and be with him? Why didn't she just throw caution to the wind and kiss him senseless until their minds were fogged from need?

Because…because it would never work out. He was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger, two very different individuals living in very different worlds. He was cold and calculating, dark and rich, something that she would never be able to really grasp. She was average, mediocre, and absolute rubbish in comparison to him and the women he had a tendency to bed. She was plain and it made her wonder just why he seemed to grow so aroused at the sight of her.

She had seen it…seen the way his erection had grown in his pants. She saw the way it jutted out, saw him fidget with minor embarrassment as it pressed against the silk. She had seen it and the second she had laid her eyes on it, her mouth began to water and the juncture between her thighs became soaked with anticipation.

But why? Why was he invoking such powerful reactions? And what was it about her that made him so undeniably aroused?

She assumed that she could easily answer the second question; he had not been with a woman in the longest time. For all she knew, the last time he had shagged a girl had probably been before they went back to school. Hell, he might've not shagged a girl in over a year! It was obvious that he was desperate for sexual contact and that even the plain Hermione Granger would seem to be a delectable morsel where he was concerned.

But…why did he arouse _her_ so?

Perhaps…perhaps it was because of the fireworks. When she had kissed Krum there had been no fireworks, and the same was true for when she had kissed Ron. There had been no spark, no ignition, no flame of desire licking between them that she felt so clearly whenever Draco was near.

Maybe he had cast some spell upon her to make her more willing if he ever wanted to shag her…

No, that didn't seem too likely; she had already proven to be quite adept at recognizing and reversing spells that affected her mind and free-will, something that had proven to be quite important during one of their last missions.

But that story was for another time…

She had to focus on more important matters; why she was lusting after Draco Malfoy.

She had to admit that he did have quit a delectable body. Strong and lean, muscled and powerful; a body meant for endurance and dominance, a body made for carnal acts in the deep of night. His aura screamed sex. It was thick haze around him, a vibrant glow that made him all the more desirable. His stances, the way he spoke, the way he looked at her made her squirm with need. He was a man who simply exuded sex.

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was a woman who had little experience in sex. From time to time, when the mood struck her, she would occasionally dip a hand into her knickers, but as far as sexual release achieved from the opposite sex, the closest she had come was kissing.

Then again, she admitted as she unconsciously kneaded her breast, the kiss with Draco had been far more explosive than the others. Definitely a kiss worth remembering. It was a thought, a memory that made her knickers wet and her body tighten with sexual urges.

Biting back a moan, she squeezed her thighs shut as fire spread between them. She couldn't help it…no matter how much she tried to logically think over the situation, every result involved her hand going down her pants.

Shivering with need, she tried not to reflect on the way his mouth had felt on hers, perfectly aligned as their lips caressed in a sensual embrace. His mouth had been so soft, so tender and warm, and she had immediately yielded under his touch.

It couldn't be helped; the way he had, without meaning to, dominated her with tender touches had made her legs feel like jelly and her heart pound erratically.

But, even though he made her heart race and blood boil, she could still find no logical reason for her body's reaction. Even as she lay on her stomach, rubbing her breasts, body aching for a sense of release, she could find no reason for why she felt the way she did.

He stirred feelings and sensations in her that no other male had. She felt ravenous and the only thing that could quell the hunger was sexual release.

Why…why did she like it so much?

Her hand slipped lower, dipping past the band of her shorts and knickers, rubbing against the smoothness of her bare mound. Her hips jerked involuntarily against her hand, arching her buttocks in the air as she adjusted for a better angle.

What was so special about Draco Malfoy? Was it the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way his face glowed whenever he laughed? Or was it the way he looked at her, his stormy eyes darkening with undeniable passion and lust? Or could it be because every time he smiled, every time he laughed with her, it made her heart pitter patter with more than just need?

There was something about Draco Malfoy that compelled her and lured her into a web of seduction and desire.

The question was, now that she had stepped one foot onto the webbing, did she want out or want to become forever trapped?

She dug her teeth into her lower lip as her fingers brushed her clitoris, eyes squeezing shut as all coherent thoughts left her mind. No matter how many times she did this – although they were few and far between – she could never comprehend just how impossibly sensitive the little nub was.

All logical thoughts lost, she rubbed harder, occasionally dipping her fingers into her slit to add moisture and lubrication. Gasping into the pillow, she allowed her imagination to take over.

If she did allow Draco to take her, to touch her in ways no other man had, how would he be? Would he be sensitive and tender, slowly building the fire into an ultimate, passionate crescendo that burned her very soul? Or would he be rough and fast, taking her with all-consuming passion that built quickly and seared her body, like a wild animal unleashed?

She imagined him as the animal, fingers bruising her flesh as he touched her and burned her. She let out a quiet moan as she imagined him slipping his fingers over and into her slit, daring to go inside of her when she dared not.

Her hips bucked wildly, a whimper escaping her mouth as she imagined his mouth down there, licking and caressing with his teeth and tongue until she was writhing and crying out in ecstasy.

Lost in pleasure, she moaned loudly, no longer able to care whether he heard or not. Her fingers moved faster, roughening as she felt her abdomen clench tightly. Her heart pounded, blood roaring in her ears as her body coiled tight, ready to spring and explode in any second.

As her walls convulsed, her body arching up as her hips jerked against her hand, she moaned out his name, the image of him coming over and into her filling her mind as release finally consumed her.

Panting into her pillow, body limp after the climax, she slid her hand out from her knickers and rolled over onto her back.

"Sweet Circe," she gasped, keeping her eyes shut as a few tears dared to leak out, "I'm…I don't know if I'll last…" She already felt her body heating up in preparation for another round as Draco's image flitted into her mind. "I…I think I may have to confront this…"

The number question in her mind, however, was '_how­'._

* * *

Draco had been, blissfully or not depending on his thoughts, oblivious to the brunettes actions upstairs. He was currently seated by the fireplace, glowering at the blue glow as he thought about his past thoughts and feelings concerning the Head Girl.

In the past, he had been attracted to a variety of women, usually roughly in the same shape and size category. But, while there was an undeniable attraction between those women and him, they had never fogged his mind the way Hermione Granger did.

Everything about her clouded his senses until all sane thoughts were gone. The way she stood, the way her eyes flashed with determination or glowed with mirth, the way she laughed, and especially the way she looked at him. There was something in her eyes, something that told him that, maybe, she thought of him as more than a friend.

Or maybe he was just imagining things and hoping…

Hoping? Since when did he hope that Hermione wanted to be something more than friends?

That was an easy question to answer…since he first pressed his lips against hers in what was supposed to be a chaste and vile kiss.

The kiss, however, had been anything but chaste and vile. It had aroused his senses in a way no other woman had ever been able to. It had warmed his whole body from the inside out, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine as his loins clenched with desire. It had been far more explosive than any other kiss he had ever experienced.

There was something about Hermione Granger that made him go wild.

Normally, with any woman, he was cool and composed, at ease with his sexuality and able to keep his composure throughout the most carnal of sexual acts. However, when Hermione simply looked at him, he felt the chains of sanity tugged and breaking as a wilder, more primitive side began to take over.

What was it that called him to her?

Was it the kiss itself? The fact that she was a forbidden fruit, something to remain untouched by him, and the fact that he had touched her had aroused him in a different way?

Could it be simply because he had not been with a woman for so long? But, even as he thought of it, he realized that he craved no other woman like he had recently begun to crave for Hermione.

There was something undeniably sensual about her. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she breathed, had an underlying tone of sexuality that he found hard to ignore.

It was there and it was screaming in his face for him to take hold of that sexuality and expose it. To take her and make her scream with need as he showed her true intimacy and passion that he knew no other man had shown her.

He may have not had first hand experience to have this knowledge, but it was common sense that told him that Weasel didn't have the guts and Krum, while arrogant in his own way, would never have taken a girl at the age of 14. That was just wrong on so many levels.

But what was he to do? He couldn't go on for the rest of the year living like this, a personal hell composed of unsatisfied desire and sexual pleasure. He could not live with her, be only a few feet away from her, but unable to touch her. Hell, he wasn't even sure if she would return his thoughts or feelings.

He would have to, eventually, confront her about this. He just couldn't go on; he couldn't avoid her and he most likely couldn't have her. He would have to tell her everything, to tell her about his desire for her and wait for her to give him suggestions on what to do.

The question now was; when would it be the right time?

**Here we go. End of chapter.**

**See! See! I'm updating faster now! **

**It's probably because I became re-addicted to this fic again. **

**Today's recipe will be somewhat a cross of Valentine's Day and Christmas. It's more just a dessert, but on the Canadian Living website (the link to which I will provide if anyone wishes for it) had it listed under a Valentine's Day treat.**

**Here it is:**

**Coffee Toffee Fudge Cake**

**The flavour of this decidedly adult indulgence will linger throughout your romantic evening. The recipe can be doubled to fit a 9-inch (2.5 L) springform pan.**

**Servings: 4**

**Ingredients:**

**4 oz semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped 125 g 1/4 cup (50 mL) butter, cut in pieces  
2 tbsp (25 mL) coffee liqueur 1-1/2 tsp (7 mL) instant coffee granules  
1/4 cup (50 mL) packed brown sugar 2 eggs, separated  
1/3 cup (75 mL) all-purpose flour Pinch each salt and cream of tartar  
2 tbsp (25 mL) granulated sugar  
2 milk chocolate covered toffee bars (each 39 g), finely chopped  
**

**Chocolate Glaze:****  
2 tbsp (25 mL) whipping cream 1 tbsp (15 mL) coffee liqueur  
1 tsp (5 mL) instant coffee granules  
2 oz (60 g) semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped **

**Preparation:**

**1. In saucepan, heat chocolate, butter, liqueur and coffee granules over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until smooth. Remove from heat; whisk in brown sugar until dissolved. Whisk in egg yolks one at a time, beating well after each addition. Whisk in flour in three additions; let cool for 5 minutes.**

**2. In bowl and using electric mixer, beat egg whites, salt and cream of tartar until soft peaks form; gradually add sugar, beating until stiff peaks form. Whisk one-third of the egg whites into chocolate batter; fold in remaining egg whites. Gently fold in half of the chopped chocolate bars.  
**

**3. Pour into well-greased 5-inch (750 mL) round cake pan. Run knife through batter to remove air bubbles. Bake in 350°F (180°C) oven for 35 minutes or until top is firm to the touch and crust has formed. Let cool on rack for 10 minutes. Remove from pan and let cool completely.  
**

**Chocolate Glaze****:**** In small saucepan over medium-high heat, bring cream, liqueur and coffee granules to boil. Immediately stir in chocolate; remove from heat and whisk until smooth. Let cool to room temperature. Pour over cake, letting some drip down sides. Garnish with remaining chocolate bar. Refrigerate for at least l hour or until glaze is set before serving. **_**(Cake can be covered and refrigerated for up to 5 days or frozen for up to 1 week.**_

**Sorry the recipe is kind of long. I tried to abbreviate it as much as I could, but I didn't want to do it too much. **

**I hope that anyone who tries it out enjoys it. It was brought to you thanks to Canadian Living.**

**Review overview:  
Constructive criticism – very much welcome. Any errors seen in the text may be mentioned in the review. Just make sure that it's clear.  
Adoration/love – always welcome.  
Flames – will be used to pour a crapload of blue powder in to make Hermione and Draco fight again in their pajamas and get aroused at the end again.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**See ya!**


	14. The Caring Uncaring

**Chapter 13 is here!!!!**

**  
Draco and Hermione's relationship is slowly but surely starting to develop. We'll see some more in this chapter and the next few.**

**Disclaimer: seeing as I've probably only put a few up, I will restate that I make no money from writing this fic. J.K Rowling owns the entire Harry Potter Universe and I am just borrowing her characters to use in my own sick, twisted, sadistic stories.**

**Okay…so this fic isn't really sick, twisted or sadistic. Unless you count sexual dissatisfaction. **

**Quick note: to a reviewer (sorry, I forget who) who mentioned that I ought to be using 'subconscious' instead of 'unconscious,' I would like to remind you that I am using them in proper context (thanks to some research, simply because I started to question whether I was using them correctly or not).**

**As defined on the Merriam-Webster site:**

**Subconscious: **_**existing in the mind but not immediately available to consciousness**_

**Unconscious:**_** 1a) not knowing or perceiving: not aware, b) free from self-awareness, 2b)(I) not marked by conscious thought, sensation or feeling unconscious motivation 3. not consciously held or deliberately planned or carried out.**_

**I just wanted to give the definitions mainly because I was unsure (subconscious just didn't sound right) and that way, if any other readers make these mistakes, it will help.**

**I did not intend to offend the reviewer who mentioned this to me; I simply wanted to demonstrate (in an educated fashion) that I am using them in the correct fashion.**

**Thank you anyway for your criticism, I appreciate it.**

**HERE WE GO!**

**Also, oh jeeze, I just realized that Victoire's birth does not coincide with her actual birth in the book. She's supposed to be born on the day that they defeated Voldemort of the same year. Well, how about we pretend that she was born two-three years later? **

**Oh, yes…almost forgot: Thank you to PerfectPotter who pointed out a common but very, very silly mistake I made in the previous chapter. I thus offer you an e-piece of key lime pie. Thanks!**

**Chapter 13**

**The Caring Uncaring**

Tuesday dawned in darkness. The azure skies were overcast, covered by thick, black clouds that prohibited many, if not all, rays of light from illuminating the world below. The only sign of day was the red horizon, a brief glow of light that managed to make the snow sparkle and the world glow. That is, until the sun grew high enough to be consumed by the clouds.

Tuesday dawned with the threat of a storm.

Draco Malfoy absolutely loathed snowstorms.

Snowstorms always made everything seem ten times colder. The wind blew and howled, always finding some way to sneak within the halls of Hogwarts and wail endlessly throughout the night. The world became a grey-black mass, the only other shade or colour available to his sight being the white, swirling snow tumbling violently down from the dark heavens.

Snowstorms were terribly unpleasant; they were noisy, wet, and nerve-wracking. He felt isolated to his bedroom and Common Room, unable to go onto the grounds or out to Hogsmeade and the castle became far too frigid to wander about in unless one wore an Inuit's gear.

Walking around Hogwarts during a snowstorm was like walking around Iqaluit in the middle of February. Unpleasant to say the least.

This unpleasantness made him moody, which, in turn, made him snappish and prone to rude comments and arguments. He had not yet been able to find a good sparring partner; she had been hiding in her room since their discussion two days ago, and this further irritated him.

Draco Malfoy was cranky as hell and Hermione Granger was going to be his first victim the second she stepped out of her damn bedroom.

To add to his unhappy state, the damn Common Room was still bathed in a blue glow.

Hell, it was starting to prick on his nerves more and more, especially since during snowstorms, he enjoyed the sight of warm, merrily crackling flames of orange and red in the hearth.

'_Damn Muggle-Born twat,'_ he thought sourly, glowering at his feet propped on the table. '_Doesn't know how to read directions for shit. Calls me a sneak for hiding in my room when that's what she's been doing the past two days. Fuck Granger, that hypocrite.'_

When the last thought sentence put him even more on the edge, sending carnal images of him and Hermione performing several acts of lust into his mind, he growled in frustration.

Draco Malfoy was not in a good mood and it was quite obvious when Hermione Granger dared exit her room, dressed in her peacoat, hat, scarf and gloves.

The second her feet hit the Common Room floor, the tension became palpable and uncomfortable. She felt more than saw his burning gaze on her, furious, if not lust-filled, and she squirmed, wishing that she had not even gotten out of bed that morning.

"Where have you been?"

His voice was low and threatening, a warning for her to tread carefully lest she unleashed the Malfoy Fury.

"I spoke with Professor Slughorn just before vacation began and he gave me an extra-credit assignment to work on. I have been going over it and finishing it in my room the past few days," she lied.

The second he stood up, she completely regretted her decision to come down and even try to face him. Two days had not been enough time to think and prepare herself for the look in his eyes. His body was tense, hard plains of muscle under the silk of his shirt, and she felt her body squirming, both inside and out, in something more than discomfort.

Her knickers threatened to go damp, the crotch of her jeans rubbing, oddly pleasantly, against her.

Two days, two days of fighting back urges to touch herself, of wishing she knew what was going on, two days of isolation from the man of her dreams, had not been enough.

She desperately feared that Draco knew what she had actually been doing, terrified that he was about to confront her about it and tell her how disgusting it was that _she_, of all people, dared to touch herself within fifty feet of him.

At the reminder, the tension increased twofold as embarrassment coloured her face red. While she knew that self-stimulation was a perfectly natural process, she rarely did so and it was quite awkward to be in the same vicinity as the person she had thought about while doing it. Especially since it had only occurred two days ago.

Leaning against the back of the couch, Draco sternly crossed his arms and leveled her with a gaze of his own. "Granger, a very small part of me wants to believe you. But," he took a step forward, "the rest of me says that you are lying and have been _avoiding_ me for the past two days. Why have you been hiding? Is it because I was right the other day? Or is it because you can't stand seeing the blue fire because of your mistake?"

Rolling her eyes, she let out a soft sigh of annoyance. It was evident that Draco was egging her for a fight, not just in his words but his stance, and she was not necessarily in the mood, nor did she have the time, to argue with him.

"You're obviously trying to get into a fight for Godric knows what reason," she stated as she moved towards the door, "but I am not in the mood to argue with you. I'll be out for about an hour and hopefully we can _discuss_ my fire mishap calmly and reasonably when I get back."

"You're not going anywhere."

She spun around as he grasped her arm, her gaze meeting his burning one, molten silver flashing dangerously in the dimly lit room. She felt an involuntary tremor slide through her body as fear clenched at her throat. She was not terrified _of_ him, per se, but of the feelings he instilled within her. Her body tightened with need at the dominance and command in his eyes, her knickers dampening at the low growl of his voice as he gripped her arm.

Swallowing thickly, fighting for a sense of control over her bodily functions, she managed to yank her arm out of his grasp.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she snapped, feigning irritation when she wanted to thrown herself in his arms and kiss him silly.

"I'm not letting you go out there," he replied angrily. "You're not allowed. McGonagall stated it this morning in the Great Hall; we have a massive storm headed this way and no student is allowed off of Hogwarts' grounds."

To prove his point, he nodded towards the nearest windows. The wind had picked up, howling against the glass, as the sky blackened before their very eyes, turning to a thick, dark grey. The world was bathed in shadow and the only other perceptible colour or shade was the whiteness of the snow, fat flakes of which were already making their way down to the ground, dancing wildly in the breeze.

"I know, Malfoy," she replied, unconsciously rubbing her arm. "Which is why I plan on leaving now and being back within the hour; the storm is only supposed to really start in an hour and a half. I'll be back before then."

"You shouldn't be going out in this weather," he snapped, frustrated with her response. Then again, he had woken up aroused and frustrated with the whole world this morning, but mainly the brunette before him for wearing short-shorts to bed.

"It's not so bad for now. Besides, I can cast a shield, water-proof, and auto-heating charms so that I don't get cold or caught up in the snow. If it gets bad enough, then I can probably make my way to Hagrid's and stay there until it clears," she retorted calmly, grabbing her boots by the door and zipping them up over her jeans.

Draco secretly loved and loathed her special leather boots. They went up to her knees, kept her warm, and made him wish that she could walk around in just them.

Cursing himself and his imagination, he barely got back to reality in time. "Why do you have to go out _now_?" he asked just as she reached for the door.

"Why is it that I have to report all of my movements and reasons to you all of a sudden?" she snapped, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"I just think that it is a very bad time to go out," he replied curtly, resisting the urge to grab her and kiss her until she stayed with him. "I think that only an idiot would go out in this weather. You're, supposedly, not an idiot, so you must have some reason to go out."

Rolling her eyes for the second time in ten minutes, she let out a breath of annoyance as she gritted back every scalding comment that filtered through her mind. "If you must now, I have a meeting with someone and I must pick up a specially made gift for Ginny. Can I go now, Dad, or do I have to sign some contract with blood or swear a Fealty Oath?"

He growled low in his throat at her sarcastic tone and was ready to snap at her for it when she sighed heavily, opened the door and marched out, slamming it in his face.

"Fuck, Granger!" he snapped, spinning around, aroused and infuriated with the brown-haired vixen.

He stomped up his stairs and slammed his bedroom door shut, removing his clothes as he fell back on the bed, massaging his cock as his mind was consumed with images of the determined woman.

He needed to do something about this…

* * *

Luna Lovegood sat calmly at the table that, less than a week ago, Minerva McGonagall and Harry Potter had sat at, planning and discussing. Taking a sip of her Butterbeer, she tilted her head towards the door as it swung open, sending a flurry of snow into the room as a brunette made her way into the Three Broomsticks.

Collapsing in the chair in front of Luna, Hermione tugged off her hat and thanked the blonde for the Butterbeer sitting in front of her. Taking a swig and letting the liquid warm her body from her toes up, she removed her scarf and yanked off her gloves in an attempt to get more comfortable before talking to Luna.

Once her hands regained their feeling, she sighed heavily and looked around, ensuring that nobody would listen in on their conversation. Luna, all the while, remained blissfully quiet, as though waiting patiently for Hermione to begin the conversation.

"I have a problem."

Luna's lips twitched into a small smile. "I assumed that you did. Tell me about it."

"It's Malfoy."

"Oh, did he refuse you as his Christmas present?"

Colour would have flooded her cheeks if they weren't already a bright red from the cold wind. Hermione's eyes widened at Luna's words, although one might assume that she would've been unfazed by this after a while.

"No…not at all. I don't even plan on _being_ his Christmas present," Hermione replied, appalled. "No…it's something different altogether."

Luna nodded slowly, the knowing smile still in place as she gestured for the brunette to continue.

"I…I think that I'm attracted to Malfoy," she whispered as though it were the most evil thing in the Universe. "I…I just can't stop thinking about him after that _kiss_!"

"Kiss?" Luna's smile broadened, eyes glowing with mirth and something else, something that Hermione just couldn't pinpoint.

Her cheeks darkened at the memory of the kiss. She was not the type to run around telling everyone about her kiss with Draco, but Luna was a close confidant and friend. Luna, unlike Ginny, did not share with the gossip circles; she merely listened and advised. This was why Hermione preferred Luna over just about every other girl in Hogwarts.

She could trust Luna.

"Y…yes," she sighed in defeat. "We were kind of forced to kiss…we got caught under the mistletoe last week and, well, we couldn't exactly get away without kissing due to the charm…" Her face burned red as she sipped from her drink. "But…but it wasn't _gross_! I thought it would've been gross, especially with my past experience. I mean, Krum was alright, but Ron was just…uncomfortable. With Malfoy it was…it was…"

"Exciting, perfect, arousing; like fireworks going off in your head and body," Luna offered without hesitation.

"Yes. I just…I can't get it out of my head. We argue so much, we're so incompatible, but when he kissed me…my goodness, it felt so right. But it's wrong, isn't it?" she groaned, burying her face in her hands. "It's wrong on so many levels. Even though he chose the right side in the end, we're still only acquaintances. I feel like I betrayed Harry and Ron. He…he made our lives a living hell for six years and now…now I can't wait to kiss him again. I _want_ to kiss him again!"

Luna's grin turned into a full-blown smile, eyes glittering brightly with knowledge and calm acceptance of what Hermione had just said. "And what does he think about this?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "I haven't told him; I kind of only just realized this two days ago, which is why I Owled you right away to meet me here. I don't know what to do. I don't know how he feels or how he'll react. He's such an arrogant prat." The irritation in her eyes told Luna more than Hermione's words did.

"You argued with him this morning." It was a statement, not an inquiry.

"How did you…?"

"Your eyes and the way you talk about him. You're annoyed with him, angry, and it's very recent. You also called him a prat," Luna added with a twinkle in her eyes.

Hermione nodded slowly, amazed at jus how perceptive Luna was. "You would make a very good therapist."

"I'm not sure what that is, but I will take it as a compliment."

Ignoring the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione continued, "Yes, we had a fight this morning. The prat didn't want me to leave; said I was hiding from him, said it was my fault the fire is still blue, and said that he refused to let me go out when we're expecting a massive snowstorm."

"Your fire is blue?"

Hermione quickly filled in Luna on their argument the other day and how she'd made the mistake of overdosing the fire with the Rainbow Powder. "But," she said, shame and embarrassment flooding her voice, "when I saw how…how attractive he was…he was only wearing silk pajama pants…I…I got so flustered. Then…I suppose he noticed my sleeping clothes…I saw him…you know…_grow_." Luna nodded again. "And…and I felt so…hot. I ran away…hide in my room and, for the first time in ages, did…stuff." Her cheeks burned, words stammering, awkwardness filling her as she tried her best to tell Luna of Sunday's events.

"I see…I'll assume you thought of him." Luna had a knowing glint in her eyes. "Why do you think he was aroused?"

"I…I don't know. I assumed it's because of what I wore…I mean, I don't think he's shagged anyone in a long time. At least, he's never brought a girl back to the Tower, so it's easy to assume it's from pent-up … you know. This…this is what I don't understand," she cried, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "I mean…the kiss, the way we've been acting around each other, Sunday…I don't know if it's because of just physical attraction or something more!"

"Do you want it to be something more?"

Hermione started at Luna, all movement and thought ceasing in her mind as the blonde voiced the one thing she had feared thinking.

What did she want? Did she just yearn for Draco on a physical level, needing some sexual satisfaction, or was there something else adding fuel to the fire? Did she want it to be more than physical or was it all lust?

"I…I don't know," she murmured, unable to or terrified of finding the true answer.

"Well," Luna said after finishing off her Butterbeer, "I highly suggest that you find your answer. Once you have it, once you know what you want, it'll be a lot easier letting him know how you feel. I can't advise you on what you want, but I do suggest that you be careful. You're treading on thin ice; you make the wrong move and things can go really wrong. But," she added with a smile, "if you make the right one, things will definitely be better. Draco is a human, too, which means that he has feelings just like you. Make sure that you are certain of your decision before talking to him; he can be hurt, too."

"I know," Hermione said softly, taking a few, deep swigs of her beverage. "I guess I'll have to figure this out on my own."

"Without a doubt," Luna replied. "Do you want to hear a suggestion?"

Hermione nodded, swallowing the rest of the Butterbeer; she didn't have much time left in Hogsmeade if she wanted to make it back before the storm.

"Try kissing him again, spontaneously, without mistletoe, without any arguments, and see what happens then."

"You just want to hear stories about Malfoy and me snogging," Hermione replied, making a face.

"Maybe I do," Luna said with a mischievous grin. "But I do not suggest you tell him that you wanked off to him. At least not right away; things will be a little awkward if you do." Hermione blushed furiously. "I'll assume that's all you wanted to talk about?"

"Well…I…how's _your_ vacation going?" Hermione stammered, feeling just a tad guilty about her selfishness.

"Oh, very well; father and I went caroling with Ginny and her family. I never went caroling before; it's a Muggle tradition, and it was quite fun. Harry wasn't there, though, and neither was Ron."

"How…any news about Ron?" Hermione asked, trying to sound mildly curious.

"I don't know," Luna replied with honesty. "Ginny mentioned that he was locked in his room and, whenever he's out, he argues a lot. I suppose he's not happy with your Christmas arrangements."

"No…not pleased at all," Hermione grumbled, tying her scarf back around her neck. "How's everyone else?"

"Well enough when I saw them. Ginny mentioned that things were a bit more strained lately, but I suppose it comes naturally with Christmas. It's a stressful time. That's why I like my family tradition." Luna got up as Hermione tugged her hat over her unruly curls.

"What's that?"

Luna smiled, tugging back on her coat as Hermione button her own and yanked on gloves. "Homemade gifts, no big feast, just a time to spend with your loved ones. Nothing is based on price, but on the emotional value. Everything we get has a sentimental meaning." Her smiled twitched, eyes softening as she glanced at Hermione. "I suggest you keep that in mind when looking for a present for Draco. Remember, he's had everything in the world money can buy, but I assure you that he needs something money cannot buy."

"What's that?" They made their way to the door, watching the snow swirling rapidly outside as the storm began and grew.

"Friendship and love, and I think that you can give him both." With that, a loud _pop_ sounded and Luna disappeared from sight.

Shoving her hands into her pockets, thinking over Luna's words, Hermione quickly cast several charms over herself before leaving to fight against the raging storm. Maybe Draco was right; maybe she shouldn't have left the castle.

As she trudged through the snow towards the specialty shop, she wondered if Luna's advice would be worth it in the end.

* * *

"Ronald Weasley! You come out of that room now!"

"It won't work; he's been locked in there for days."

"The little twat. Does he realize how bloody selfish he is? Locking himself away because some girl he _likes_ decided not to spend Christmas with him. Hell, it's not like she's his wife or girlfriend."

"That's because he never got up the nerve to ask her."

"Quite pathetic, if you ask me."

"Nobody asked you, George."

"Well, Perce's statement deserved an answer."

"But I didn't ask for one. Bill, try again."

"Ron! Get your freckle-covered arse out of that bloody room, you fucking twat."

"Like that'll get him out any faster."

"Shove it, Charlie."

"Let me try." A stocky redhead pushed past his older brother, the slim and lean Bill, to bang on the door. "Ron! Come on out! Everyone's here! Don't you at least want to have some pudding with us! Teddy's here. We know how much you like to play with Teddy."

"We've tried that tactic and it didn't work."

"Why don't you come up with something a little more helpful, Gin, instead of telling us it doesn't work _after_ we try it?"

"We could always lie and say Hermione's here."

Three redheaded men and one girl gaped in awe at the youngest male presently in the hallway. George shrugged; scratching at the mass of scaring that was once his ear – an impulse he had recently developed when feeling stressed or rather uncomfortable. "What? It's worth a try."

Ginny punched her older brother in the arm. "Yeah, and once he says she isn't here, he'll start another bloody row with everyone and sulk even more!"

"Gin's right," added Percy; "it won't do us any good if we were to say that."

"He probably wouldn't believe you anyway," Charlie added a moment later.

"I just wish that he would come out and say hi to everyone," sighed Bill, rubbing at his scarred face. "Hell, he didn't even come out when you showed up." He gestured to Charlie.

"I'm just fed up with his childishness," said a very exasperated Percy. "I know, I know, maybe I don't have much of a right to say that, considering what I've done, but at least I grew up. Ron's just being pathetic."

"Perce?" a soft feminine voice trailed up the stairs. "Is everything okay?"

Percy looked around the corner, eyeing the petite blonde halfway up the stairs. "It's all okay, Audrey, just go back down and help Mum with the cleaning. I'm sure you'll meet my brother some day."

"Is everything all right?" another female voice joined the first.

Audrey, Percy's fiancée, was heard saying, "Yeah. At least, that's what Perce said, but he says a lot of things that aren't true."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, like the time we…"

"Audrey! Please, go back downstairs and have your discussion, but away from my mother."

"Sara," Charlie cried, sticking his head around the corner to find the curvaceous brunette that now shared his bed with him, "please stay out of trouble."

Sarafina, a woman who worked on the dragon reserve with Charlie in Romania, pouted her full lips. "All right, but only if I get a reward later."

"What? Oh, all right! Come on, Sara, Molly needs our help!" shouted Audrey, not really able to deal with the lust-filled glances Charlie and Sarafina were exchanging.

"Women," sighed Percy, leaning against the corridor wall. "They're so difficult at times."

Ginny cleared her throat, glaring at – or up at – her older brothers. "I'm not _that_ difficult."

Bill grinned, ruffling her hair. "Oh, but you're the most difficult of all."

"Why?"

George reached over and gave her a squeeze. "Because we love you the most."

"Except for Ron," Charlie said a moment later, "because he's a prat and _doesn't give a damn about anyone but himself_!" He shouted the last words, hoping that anger would get his brother out of the room.

"Nothing's working," Bill sighed. "I suppose we should just let it be for now. We'll try again once the Grangers get here."

The group made their way down the zigzagging stairs of the Burrow. While the family had come into money over the years, they were taking their times with renovations to the home; it was still quite sturdy and it was proven difficult to make changes to the home they had come to love and adore.

"I'm so fed up with his attitude," Ginny grumbled. "At school, when he found out about Hermione's plans, he went mental. Neville said, on the train, that he saw Ron trying to corner and attack her."

"Is that true?" asked George in disbelief.

"Apparently so; Neville was running late and was hurrying down a corridor when he heard raised voices. When he got to the stairs, he found Ron shouting stuff at a landing across from him, screaming at Hermione. Said the only reason she didn't get hurt was because the staircase moved." Ginny shook with fury as the recalled Neville's story. "That twat. He acts like Malfoy's going to rape her, and he goes ahead and does shit like this."

"I understand that he cares about her a lot," said Bill after a moment's silence, "but this is taking it too far."

"She's a grown woman," agreed Percy. "A lot more mature than we were at that age. She can make her own decisions without needing Ron's input. Hell, she doesn't even have to give her reasons to him unless _she_ wants to."

"We all know that," George said as they arrived in the blissfully empty living room; the women were currently crowding the kitchen to clean and prepare the pudding. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, most likely hiding out in the garage with his Muggle toys. "I just wish that Ron could realize it."

"We're going to have to do something about this, and soon," Charlie said, collapsing in his favourite armchair. "It isn't healthy and it definitely isn't helping his relationships with anyone."

"I concur."

"Who the hell says concur, Perce?"

"I do."

"That's kind of poofish," George added.

"Well I'm not a poof," Percy snapped. "Obviously not, seeing as I'm engaged to someone with breasts and female anatomy."

"How do we know she really has a vagina?" asked Charlie with a chortle.

"Well I do!" Percy stated, crossing his arms with indignation.

The siblings grinned at one another, enjoying this time together when they could joke and amuse one another. So far, the vacation had been anything but amusing, with Ron in hiding and Molly so short-tempered. It seemed, however, that this morning everyone but Ron had woken up on the right side of bed. Especially since Harry had come back with good news. News that was, unfortunately, not shared with Ginny, seeing as the youngest Weasley enjoyed the gossip circles all too much.

"We'll know everything soon enough, though, won't we?" asked George.

Bill nodded. "From the sounds of it, we should know everything by the 18th."

"That's two whole days," whined George.

"Better than nothing," spat Ginny, sitting on the sofa beside her eldest brother.

Percy grabbed the other armchair while George reclined on the loveseat. "I guess two more days of Ron's antics isn't much, considering we've been stuck with him for over a week."

"Technically, we're not really with him," Charlie pointed out; "seeing as he's been hiding and we've been as far from him as possible."

"It's just lucky that Mum and Dad were able to modify the house to make more rooms," George said, "or things might be a little uncomfortable."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to be in the same room as Angelina and you," said Percy with a laugh.

"W…what?"

"I hear you two shagging _every_ night," groaned Ginny. "You're so bloody loud! Please, put silencing charms on your room! The other night, Harry was so nauseous he didn't even want to touch me."

"And do you think anyone would want to share your room? You and Harry are hormonal teenagers," George retorted. "I think it would be worse with you two."

"At least Harry knows how to put up silencing charms," Ginny snapped.

"Well, Fleur and I can finally have loud sex," Bill said loudly, hoping to stop the argument from increasing. Every eye in the room fell on him and even silence filtered from the kitchen. "I mean, you try having sex when your child's sleeping in the next room and has tendencies to start crying as soon as we get started. She's staying in Tonks' room, which means less stress and more sex for Fleur and me."

"I really didn't need that image," groaned Ginny.

"None of us did," muttered Percy, looking a little green around the edges.

Charlie grinned over to Bill. "I bet Sara and I have had more sex than you. The girl's a wildcat. I love it. Always go after girls who love dragons; they're fiery and sexy as hell."

"Bill!"

"Charlie!"

The eldest Weasleys turned their heads at the twin female voices near the living room entrance. Fleur stood tall and indignant, recently cropped hair glinting in the light as the tall, curvy form of Sarafina crossed her arms sternly.

"What is ze meaning of this?" Fleur cried, eyes flashing with warning at Bill.

"Charlie! You know better than to talk openly about our sex life. Especially to your family!" Sarafina snapped.

"Come with me!" both women shouted, grabbing their partners before yanking them out of the room.

Fleur led Bill to one room, where she proceeded to scold her in fury until the man of her dreams showed just how much he desired her, taking her slowly and gently on George's bed.

Sarafina, however, pounced on Charlie the second they were in Percy's room, resulting in him crushing her against the wall, pounding into her over and over again until she wept for mercy.

All the while, the trio downstairs burst into raucous laughter. This was how Harry found them, rolling around, tears streaming as they chuckled, faces red from joy.

"What…what's going on?" he asked just as a loud scream of pleasure rang through the house.

"Fuck yes, Charlie!"

"Was that…?"

Ginny's laughter doubled as she nodded to confirm Harry's question. The brunet blushed darkly, secretly content to find things slowly going back to normal at the Weasley household.

If only Ron could grow up…

* * *

Where the hell was she?

She hadn't been there when McGonagall had announced for a head count in the Great Hall. There had been no word from her since she had left the Tower in rage. There had been no sign of her since the snow tore down from the skies and the wind screamed through the air.

What the hell was taking her so long?

Draco paced angrily in the Common Room, unable to contain his anger and worry any longer. Hermione was out there, in the bloody storm, and he had no idea whether she was safe or hurt.

Instead of worrying about her safety, he should have been worrying about his sanity. It was not everyday that Draco Malfoy worried about Hermione Granger's well-being. Hell, he had _never_ worried about her before this.

This time…this time things felt different, within him and in the physical world. He felt more responsible for her, more anxious about her, and found her image plaguing his mind more than ever.

There was something about Hermione Granger that called to him and made his stomach knot with anxiety.

What if she was hurt?

What if she was stuck somewhere, unable to communicate with anyone?

What if she was dead and they found her frozen corpse the next morning?

Spinning around, he punched the wall, only succeeding in scraping and bruising his hand. As blood seeped out of the cuts, he glowered at the stones, terrified for the young Gryffindor woman.

If she died, he…

"Hell, I hate to admit it, but you were right, Malfoy. It is one doozy of a storm and it started a lot earlier than expected."

Draco spun around, eyes flashing furiously at the woman standing in the entrance, covered from head to toe in snow.

"Just what took you so long?" he snapped.

"What do you mean?" she asked, shaking snow off of her hat and head. "I actually took less time than I had originally planned."

"What the hell were you thinking?" he roared suddenly, unable to face her simplistic replies. "You _knew_ that there was going to be a storm. You knew that it was going to be bad. You bloody well knew that I didn't want you going out there. What the fuck were you thinking?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the blond, hanging her hat on a rack to dry as she meticulously removed her snow laden scarf. "Malfoy, I do not have to obey your every wish and command. I am a free being and I am able to do what I want whenever I want. That includes going out when I want to, even if there is a threat of a bit of snow."

"A bit of snow?" cried Draco. "A bit of fucking snow! Are you mad?"

"No, but I'm starting to think that you are," she snapped, pausing in the middle of unbuttoning her jacket. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is that you were out there, in this fucking storm, for a little fucking meeting and a present you could have picked up tomorrow!" He threw his hands in the arms in rage, pacing rapidly on the spot, fighting the urge to go over there and throttle the confused and irked brunette.

"What does it matter to you?" she retorted, successfully removing her jacket.

"You…you could have been hurt!" he cried, uncaring that she heard his worries. "You could have been lost and freezing to death! You could have fallen and hurt yourself so bad you couldn't get back! Hell, you could have _died_!"

The dawn slowly began to rise in her mind as realization numbed every part of her body. Her heart slammed painfully in her chest as her eyes widened slowly with shock. Was Draco about to confess what she thought he was going to confess?

"Why…why does it matter to you if I died?" she asked, voicing the one question she feared hearing the answer to.

"Because!" he growled, waving his arms around, at a temporary loss for words. "Because," his voice softened, "I…I care about you."

**AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

**Cliffy.**

**I'm a bitch, eh?**

**HA!**

**No recipe right now, seeing as it is currently midnight and I have to get up at five a.m. (I'm not too bright, eh?). I'll post two small ones in the next chapter.**

**Don't worry, I plan on the posting the next one soon enough. We'll find out what's going on between Draco and Hermione and try to figure out what good news Harry has.**

**Concerning the Weasley lovers: Audrey is a character Rowling put Percy with, according to my research. Sarafina, however, is my own character. I kind of based a tidbit of her on me, but not much. Her name is the same name my WoW character used to have before I changed her. I liked the idea of Charlie having a girlfriend with a slightly different name.**

**My Weasley scene didn't go as planned, but, well…I like the added humour.**

**Review overview:**

**Constructive criticism – very much welcome. Like always, any mistakes I have made (spelling or otherwise) that you have spotted, please let me know in your review.**

**Flames – used to melt all the snow and increase the passion between Draco and Hermione**

**Adoration – always welcome and much loved**

**Take care!**


	15. Lost for Words

**Chapter 14**

**Lost for Words**

_"I care about you."_

A profound silence filled the room, so profound that it was almost suffocating. The air thickened as tension increased, breathing became difficult as confusion and embarrassment threatened to devour their bodies.

Hermione choked, letting out a dry cough, body trembling violently as she put a hand to her mouth in an effort to stop the sounds. Unfortunately, it was to no avail.

Merely two seconds after Draco's statement, Hermione Granger was clutching her ribs, heaving loudly as laughter shook her body. Tears filled her eyes, pouring down her cheeks as she fell back against the door, unable to believe a word the blond had said.

This must have been some sick joke…

"Oh…Oh Gods…Malfoy…that is hilarious…that's definitely a keeper," she guffawed, almost on her knees as her body near-collapsed from the laughter.

Wiping furiously at her tears of mirth, she continued to sob out her sounds of joy, finding the situation more and more comical by the second.

It was absolutely impossible for Draco Malfoy to give a damn about her; she was simply not the type of person he cared about. So, his retort must have been sarcastic and said with the intent to shock rather than create a humourous atmosphere.

At least, that is what she believed…

Completely leaning against the door now, panting heavily, she choked out; "Goodness, Malfoy…where in the world did you come up with something so…?" Her words faltered as her eyes met his.

The silence returned with a vengeance, battering their bodies as her heart thundered in her chest. This time, there was no laughter in her eyes, her body did not shake from joy, and the tears that threatened to spill were not ones of happiness.

His face was a blank mask of cold steel, lips tight, skin drawn; an emotionless façade against the warring emotions within him. It would have been perfect if it weren't for his eyes.

She saw everything in his eyes.

Pain, gut-wrenching pain, mixed with indignation and anger, made his eyes darken to hard steel.

She felt every ounce of breathe leave her body in a rush as guilt riddled her mind.

What had she done…?

"Malfoy…you…you were serious, weren't you?" she whispered, terrified of the answer.

The guilt, she could live with, but it was the fear that she had just destroyed any chance she had ever had with him…all because of one horrible mistake.

He slowly inclined his head, keeping the mask intact, fighting to not give any inkling of his emotions away to her. He couldn't live with himself if he let her see…let her know how he felt. Especially after she had just made her feelings quite clear.

"Oh Gods," she murmured, standing straight, eyes widening with shock. "Oh dear Gods," she repeated, face paling as she took an involuntary step forward, hand stretched out as though prepared to touch and comfort. "Malfoy…I…I'm…"

"Don't."

The words were short, curt, but void of any snappish, crude sarcasm that identified Draco Malfoy as unique. It scared her, stomach knotting painfully as she slowly realized absolute consequences of her actions.

"Don't even bother," he said, voice soft in the silence of the room, the wind howling in the distance.

She took a second step forward, unaware of her unconscious intent, unaware that her actions slowly brought her closer to him. She hadn't even considered just what she intended to do once she reached him; all she knew was that she wanted to cup his cheek and comfort him.

"No," she replied softly. "I…it was wrong of me…Oh Gods, I'm so…"

"It's not what you think," he snapped, the lie evident in his eyes, in the protective stance he took.

"What…what do you mean?" She lowered her hand, watching him in astonishment and perplexity.

The tension almost eased in the room, swiftly replaced with awkwardness as his cheeks mottled red, a sharp contrast to his pale golden hair. He shoved his hands into his pockets, intending to appear more relaxed and at ease than he actually felt.

"It…I only care because you're…you're an acquaintance. A friend…and it's not fun when friends get hurt," he admitted quietly as his conscience screamed at him for the blatant lie.

A faint colour returned to her cheeks as she was sucked into the lie, believing every spoken word now that his eyes no longer told a different story. "Oh…Oh! Yes…yes, I completely understand. I care a lot about Ron and Harry, even Ron's family, but I'm not in a special relationship with any of them," she half-stammered, trying to get the right foothold on the conversation.

Draco slowly nodded, turning his head to the side, refusing to let her look him directly in the eye. He couldn't let her see the naked pain, the raw agony that was slowly eating away at him.

She had laughed at him…

He had admitted, while not in the best of fashions, that he cared about her, and she had the gall to _laugh_ at him. It was the most excruciating pain he had ever experienced.

"It's platonic," he said, acting more flustered than hurt to continue his façade. "It's…it's a friend-care."

She nodded, fumbling to find something to do with her hands as guilt continued to shake her. "Ye…yeah, I understand," she replied quietly. "A…a feeling you get for a friend. I mean…I know we're not best of friends, but, well, after all this time together, I suppose we could be _friends_."

At one point in time, he would be curious as to why that one damn word made his heart bleed. Now, after she laughed in his face and called him her _friend_, he understood exactly why his heart was being shredded into pieces.

He had come to the conclusion, only an hour earlier, that he cared deeply for Hermione Granger, as more than a friend. There was something about her, something about the way she smiled, the way she walked, and the way she spoke that screamed at him. It made him feel so unbelievably cherished every time she grinned in his direction. His heart fluttered anxiously every time he thought of her smiling, glowing face. His stomach wrenched pleasantly every second he remembered the way she laughed when they had played in the snow.

There was something about Hermione Granger, all right, and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

He cared about her; he had realized. He cared deeply about her and did not want to let anything destroy her smiling face. He wanted to protect her from the world's harm, to hold her in his arms and keep her safe for the rest of eternity. He wanted to go back in time and save her from his Aunt's torture, to stand up sooner against his family and enemies and prevent Hermione's agony.

He wanted to love and cherish her, to caress her cheek without worry, to laugh with her without growing flustered, and he wanted to tell her that he cared without negative feedback or consequences.

She had laughed at him.

He would have fallen to his knees at that point; the pain was so powerful. He wanted to scream and tear the room to shreds, to yell at him and let he know just how he felt about her.

He wanted to kiss her thoroughly until she was sobbing with need.

Then he would see who was laughing.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "friends." At least it was a step closer. "I mean…friends do care about each other and worry and…" He suddenly became flustered, the red darkening on his cheeks as he completely turned away. He didn't know why, but he felt so embarrassed, ready and willing as he suddenly was to proclaim his feelings for her.

Hell…he didn't even completely understand what he felt for her. All he knew was that he had been terrified at the idea of her outside in the raging storm. He couldn't bear the thought of her lying injured somewhere…

"So…did…did you see McGonagall?" He had to get rid of this tension, to distract her from his embarrassing outburst. She obviously didn't return the feelings, which made the situation all the more awkward.

"Yes," she replied, bending down to remove one boot, finding every movement to be sluggish, as though she were physically moving through layer upon layer of tension. "She wasn't too pleased with me, docked about fifteen points, but was happy that I was safe. She also wants us to patrol the Houses and do a head count in about an hour."

"But she already did one," replied Draco, trying to feign indifference and relaxation at this moment of sheer mental torture.

"So I heard," Hermione said, removing the second boot with much difficulty. "However, she said that she had given everyone a time limit to be in their rooms by. Doing the head count will make sure everyone is where they're supposed to be. She gave me the student lists and passwords."

Draco nodded, no longer listening as he watched her in the corner of his eye. How could she react so calmly after what he had said? How could she act like nothing had happened? It hurt…it hurt more than he wanted to believe…the image of her laughing in his face forever imprinted within his mind.

He didn't know what he wanted to do more at the moment, smack her or kiss her.

"Do…do you want some hot chocolate?" she asked, needing to say something to break the thick silence. "I was going to…you know…make some. It was awfully cold out there…I mean, the heating charm barely lasted the walk back…"

"No thanks."

He sounded so cold. It pained her heart listening to him speak in that tone, as though every emotion had been sucked from his soul, replacing his mind and body with an empty shell.

Needing to move, to get away from him and think, she made her way over to the kitchen and began taking out the various utensils and ingredients for hot chocolate. The noises, the movements, distracted her momentarily and gave her the time she needed to think.

She saw through him…saw through the lie. His eyes told her everything.

He cared about her, but it wasn't as a friend. She saw his body clench as she said the word, saw the way his eyes darkened with agony as the one, fateful word was spoken.

He wanted something more…something she wasn't sure if she was ready to give just yet.

She'd hurt him, she realized as the water began to heat up. Regret tore through her and she found herself blinking back tears as her heart began to break.

He had confessed to her…and she had laughed at him.

'_Hermione Granger, you are one horrible, cruel bitch,'_ she cursed.

Her hands shook as she spooned out the hot chocolate mix, carefully adding just the right amount of milk to her mug as the water began to steam.

She was a horrible person. She had _laughed_ at him because he had said he'd cared about her. Gods…what had she done?

"D…Draco," she choked out, saying his first name for the first time. She felt him turn his gaze on her, unaware that it was one of shock and confusion. "I…I'm sorry."

She heard him move, felt his heat on her back, and did not resist as he reached out and touched her shoulder, pulling her around to face him. But she did not look at him.

"For what?"

She gaped up at him wordlessly, unable to fathom how he could ask such an asinine question at this point in time. "W…What? Don't tell me you're so thick that you barely registered what I did earlier?"

A sad smile broke his mask, grey eyes shimmering softly in the light. "I know what you did," he murmured as his face slowly hardened. "I saw you…I watched you…and all you can do is say that you're sorry?"

She watched as his face contorted, hardening to stone as all sorrow faded into pain and fury. She had hurt him and he wouldn't take it lying down.

"You're sorry? You're sorry for laughing in my face? Sorry for making a joke out of something _that_ serious? You're _sorry_?" he spat, eyes darkening with rage. "I tell you that I care, that I was actually _worried_ about you, and you fucking laugh at me. And you think sorry with fix it?"

"I…" She swallowed her fear, knowing that the only way to stand up to him, to make him feel better, was by returning his fury with her own. "What do you want me to say? What do you expect me to do? You've always given me the bloody cold shoulder. You act like we're nothing but acquaintances, people forced to know each other because we're forced to live together. You never once showed any emotion towards me save for spite and hate. Obviously it'll be a shock if you tell me you 'care.'"

"You made a joke out of my feelings," he snapped, gripping her shoulder tightly. "You laughed in my face. You told me that is was a bleedin' keeper!"

"What do you expect from me?" she shouted, stabbing him with her finger. "Obviously I thought it was a joke. Hell, even in the last few days, I thought the only reason you laughed around me was because of something I _said_. Not because _I'm_ funny. I thought you smiled because of what we were doing, not because you were doing it _with me_!"

"What? So I can't be happy just being with you? I can't enjoy our conversations? Must I only show contempt for you?"

The kettle began to shriek, a sound that was barely registered by them.

"It would've been nice if you showed that you cared more often!"

"Why? Why should I bother if all you're going to do is laugh in my face?"

"What about the kiss, then?" she yelled, going into forbidden territory, determined to make a fool of the man. "Were you being honest when you said it was the foulest kiss you had ever experienced?"

"You bloody well know it wasn't!" he shouted, forgetting all of the rules, forgetting about everything but the feisty woman in front of him pulling his every nerve. "You want the truth? You keep bugging me for it. I liked it. I liked the fucking kiss. I liked the way you felt under me, the way you kissed me back, how you just collapsed in my arms and let me kiss you. I fucking _loved_ it."

She swallowed thickly as all anger faded from her body. Embarrassment coloured her cheeks red and she suddenly wanted to fidget on the spot. "How do I know you're telling the truth now?" she whispered, afraid of the response.

"Fuck you, Granger," he snapped, pushing her away to brood in front of the fireplace. "You don't believe me when I lie, you don't believe when I tell the fucking truth. A Death Eater through and through, eh? Can't trust me at all because of what my father did. You're the same as every other fucking person here. Can't spare a single second to trust my word."

She knew that he was making up excuses, using them to start up another argument altogether, to avoid returning to discussing the kiss. She knew that his cheeks weren't just red from the anger; she had felt the way his body unconsciously trembled against hers as he touched her. Saw the way his eyes stormed with lust as he remembered the kiss.

Ignoring the screaming kettle, she closed her eyes, fighting for some semblance of sanity before she did what she was about to do. Gathering up as much courage as she could, pushing back all negativity, she swallowed thickly and looked over to him.

He was so beautiful, even enraged. A dark angel, a beautiful devil, a gorgeous demon sent to torture her with sensuality and need. He was exactly what she needed…the one thing she had been searching for since she could remember…

Clenching her shaking hands into fists, she took a deep breath and made her way over to the man by the fire.

Trembling, she moved to face him, reaching up to cup his cheeks.

Surprise filled his eyes as he looked down at her and she gnawed on her lip.

There was no turning back now…

"Thank you for caring," she murmured, lowering his head down to press her lips against his.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe as he felt her smooth lips pressed against his. He had dreamt about this, imagined this happening again, but he had never thought that she would ever return the feelings. He froze, heart hammering against his ribs, unable to do anything, only for a second before the chain of control snapped and the shock wore off.

He growled against her mouth, wrapping his arms tightly around her form, holding her close to him as he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss. She relinquished the power to him, yielding against him as a small moan escaped her throat.

He bruised her lips, tongue seeking entrance to her moist cavern. Their bodies were being consumed with fire, bathed in flames of desire as their lips remained connected. Their hearts pounded, blood boiled and roared, and the world around them became nonexistent as electrical pulses of pleasure raced through their bodies, electrifying every nerve ending, sending their entire bodies into overdrive.

The air thickened with arousal and she mewled softly against his mouth when he took her lower lip and sucked on it. Her arms twined around his neck, pulling him closer, needing him to be as close to her as possible.

His tongue darted into her mouth, probing every crevice, finding every little nook, before engaging hers in a timeless, furious dance. A hand found her hair, delving in it as he tugged her head further back, plundering her mouth with every ounce of passion he had.

This was what she wanted, she realized, twining her tongue around his. This was exactly what she wanted; passion, lust, and the overwhelming sensation that there was something else making this all the better. Something they shared that she had never shared with any other man.

Something told her, screamed at her, that this kiss, it was not just a kiss of physical lust. It was a kiss with something more.

And she wanted something more…

_Scree! Scree! Screeeeeeeeeeeeee!_

They continued to kiss, his hands trailing down her spine, digging into her hips to bring her flush against him. His lips trailed down her jaw, finding her throat and tugged on the sensitive flesh. Her head fell back with a moan, fingers delving into his hair to press his lips harder against her neck.

_Screeeeeeeeeeeeee!_

"What the fuck is that?" he growled against her skin, finding a tender spot where her throat met her collar bone.

"Kettle," she gasped, tightening her grip on his hair as he bit down on the sweet flesh. "Ignore it."

His hands just brushed the top of her buttocks, pressing her even closer, wanting her to be right against him, for there to be no space between there bodies as he kissed her throat.

"Kiss me," she murmured, yanking his mouth to hers, kissing him like a woman starved. She bit down on his lip, bruising his mouth as her tongue battled passionately against his.

_Screeeeeeeeeeeeee!_

"Fuck," he groaned against her mouth, ready to drown in the sweet taste of her lips. She tasted like ambrosia, a combination of Butterbeer and a flavour that was uniquely Hermione.

He reached down, grasping her buttocks and lifted her, pressing her against him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he continued to savagely kiss her.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger…Oh my!"

They suddenly broke apart, gasping for air, eyes widening as they turned to see Headmistress McGonagall standing in the doorway of their Tower, an ear-piercing shrieking sound echoing in the background.

Draco's face flamed with red just as Hermione mouthed wordlessly at the astounded woman. Suddenly, Draco released Hermione, forgetting that she was wrapped around him.

She hit the ground with a loud thud, narrowly missing the coffee table and stone hearth. Draco lunged forward, heaving her to her feet, muttering various apologies as McGonagall waved her wand, turning off both the kettle and the unknown shrieking sound.

'_Well…at least they're promoting interhouse unity,'_ she thought, unsure whether she found the phrase comical or grim.

"While I feel I must reprimand you for your actions," she began before Hermione had even gotten to her feet, punching Draco in the side every two seconds or so, "there is something much more important to discuss instead of your decision to ignore the alarm."

Rubbing her back, she glared one last time at Draco before facing her Professor and mentor, Hermione replied, "Sorry, Professor…won't happen again. I…so…what alarm?"

"Honestly, Miss Granger, I would have assumed that at least had knowledge of it," tsked the Professor. "It was installed during your seventh year, a way of communicating to all Heads and Professors when there is an intruder or an emergency. It is only found within the Heads' Tower, Headmaster's Office, and the Professors' chambers," she quickly explained, making it quite obvious that she wanted to avoid small talk as much as possible.

"Then what's the emergency?" asked Draco, wanting to go back to snogging Hermione as fast as possible. His pants felt tight and uncomfortable as his erection pressed sharply into his jeans.

"It seems that Mr. Dennis Creevey has gone missing. Mr. Finnegan and Mr. Thomas reported him missing to me just moments ago, and it appears that he is nowhere to be found in the school."

"Have you searched everywhere?" Hermione asked, forgetting about her aching back and the throbbing between her thighs. If Dennis had gone out into the storm…

McGonagall produced an all too familiar piece of parchment. Draco knitted his brows in confusion, having never seen it before, but Hermione had seen it many times.

"The Marauder's Map! How…how did you get it?" she asked, eyes wide with fear. "I…well…you see…I'm sure Harry can explain…"

"Mr. Potter has kindly leant it to me for the winter vacation, just in case of an emergency. He offered it to me at the beginning of year, for emergencies only, and thought that I might need it for the holidays. Unfortunately, I had to swear that I would return it to him once the vacation was over." Shaking her shoulders and adjusting her cloak, she cleared her throat. She was obviously not content with the idea of returning such a valuable piece of parchment to a boy that would definitely use it for mischief. "And, it would seem that we are experiencing an emergency; Mr. Creevey is nowhere to be seen on the map."

Hermione rushed forward, taking the map from McGonagall's outstretched hand after asking for it, poring over the little dots. Everybody, it seemed, were in their Houses. Several teachers, including Sprout, Flitwick, and Hagrid, were moving around the school, obviously searching for the lost student.

She thought over every little hideaway, every little passage that led from the school that was not on the map. She thought of every place that Dennis might be.

"Has anyone checked the Room of Requirement?" she asked, not looking up from the parchment.

"Yes. There was no sign of him," the Headmistress said solemnly. Under normal circumstances, she would be irked of the idea that a student questioned the thoroughness of a teacher. However, this was Hermione Granger, a valuable player in the destruction of Lord Voldemort, and McGonagall had more respect for her than any other witch she had met.

Sighing heavily, Hermione felt Draco's heat as he moved over to her, looking over the map in awe. She breathed in deeply, taking in his scent, latching onto it as a foothold for strength and desire. She wanted to turn around and kiss him senseless.

If only Headmistress McGonagall weren't standing in front of them…

Swallowing her arousal, she focused on the task at hand.

"I can't think of any unlisted passage that he might have gotten to," she said after a moment's silence. "Many were already caved in before the war and I think a number more were destroyed afterwards. I don't think he knows about any others; I believe that he may no longer be in the school."

"What about an Invisibility Cloak?" Draco asked.

"Not possible; Harry always showed up on the map, even under his Invisibility Cloak."

"Are you sure Potter's wasn't defective?"

Hermione bit back a sarcastic remark; nobody aside from her, Ron, and Harry, knew that his cloak was one of the Hallows. It was to remain a secret; it was understood that people would kill to have their hands on one of them.

"Positive," she sighed, lifting her head to gaze at McGonagall. "Has anyone spoken with Dean or Seamus about what Dennis said before he disappeared? It might help give us an idea of where he might go…"

"It's a very good idea, Miss Granger," the woman nodded. "Just in case, you should bring your coats and wands; we might have to go out into the storm."

* * *

It was wonderful. A true piece of art. The best thing he had ever created.

And there was no one here to truly appreciate the glory of it.

Hanging his head, Dennis looked at the article in front of him. The article he had painstakingly created, spending hours finding the right parchment, the right ink, and the right words. He had developed the photographs with care, needing them to come out in perfection. He had measured them, placing them in the exact noted slots.

Everything had to be perfect.

Everything was beautiful.

If only…

"Hey Dennis, watcha got there?"

He looked over, facing a dark-skinned boy. His name was Dean Thomas, he recalled, one of the people who had fought alongside his brother.

"It's…it's an article."

Why was Dean talking to him? The boy never spoke to him. Nobody older than him ever talked to him, except for Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione. But even of late, Ron hadn't been in the talking mood. For the whole week before the holiday began, Ron had been glowering and furious.

"What's it about?"

What was Dean up to? Had Ginny asked Dean to keep an eye on him? Honestly, he wasn't a child to be watched over and coddled; he was fifteen, for goodness sake. He was going to be sixteen in two months!

"It's just a Christmas article. Thought it could help with the Christmas spirit." Dean nodded as he spoke, as though he understood exactly what Dennis meant."Yeah, a lot of people could use more Christmas spirit nowadays."

Dennis looked back down at the image, at the way the couple moved and eyed each other, watching them argue and smile, laugh and snarl, and he felt his stomach flip.

He missed his brother…Collin would have loved this. Collin would have told him that it was beautiful. That is was perfect. The best article he had ever seen.

Collin…

"I wish my brother was here to see it…"

It came out before he had even considered what to say. Dean's eyes softened and the young man sat down beside Dennis, wanting to get close but afraid of what the younger boy might do.

"It's all right, Dennis," he said quietly. "I'm sure that he can see it where he is. He's your guardian angel now, watching over you even though you can't see him."

"Really?"

What a load of rubbish. His brother was cremated and poured into the lake with the rest of the dead. The only thing that reminded the world of his brother's existence was the large monument, erected in honour of those who gave their lives to create peace.

He could see it now, the picture of his brother moving, smiling and waving, talking to the other pictures the same way the paintings moved about. His photo was underneath one of a grinning, freckle-covered man that looked very much like a shorter, stockier Ron.

If only Collin could see it…

Gods…he missed his brother…

"I…I want to show it to him one day. Maybe…maybe when the storm dies down. Maybe tomorrow." He wanted to show it to him now.

"That's a good plan. Do you want me to come with you?"

Dennis looked up at Dean, seeing the concern in the young man's eyes. Seeing the understanding…the sympathy. No pity…no pity at all…Dean understood him.

But not as well as Ginny did…

"I…I think it'd be easier if I went alone," Dennis mumbled. "But thank you anyway."

"You take care," Dean said seconds before someone called to him from across the room. "If you ever need to talk, remember, I'm here, and Hermione's still here, too."

Dennis nodded as Dean walked away, staring down at the article.

He really wished that his brother could see it…

* * *

After much scrambling for their coats and boots, in Draco's case, a sweatshirt and boots – which Hermione scolded him about – the students and Headmistress made their way to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Seamus was of little help but everything Dean said made it quite obvious that Dennis had left. Hermione had resisted the urge to scream at the brunet, fighting back every impulse to threaten him while listening to his thoughts and perceptions.

When they left the Common Room, Hermione was fuming and anxious. While Dennis was fifteen, he had a very small body. He had hardened somewhat over the years but he was destined to be forever smaller than everyone else. Genetics, she thought, because Collin used to be the same.

As they reached the Great Hall, Draco grumbling and cursing about having to go out into the storm, they found Hagrid, Slughorn, and their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Eli Morningstar, gathered in the entrance.

"Any news, Minerva?" Slughorn asked, adjusting his coat more comfortably around his rotund body.

McGonagall sighed heavily, weariness making her look decades older. "From what I can gather, it seems that he has ventured out onto the grounds."

"In this bleedin' mess?" cried Eli, green eyes flashing in the bright light. "Who in their right mind goes outside in a storm like that?"

"He lost his brother in the war," she explained. "It appears that he had made something for Christmas; an article. His brother was fascinated with photography and, according to a student; he wanted his brother to see it. It makes sense to assume that he has gone outside with the intention to find the monument at the lake."

"But he could easily get lost out there," Eli pointed out.

"That is very true, which is why I have brought our Head Boy and Head Girl here to help us search," McGonagall said with a nod. "I suggest that we separate and head out, searching the grounds. Horace, go with Hagrid; if we find Mr. Creevey, send out your Patronus and we will start heading back."

"We'll freeze to death before we find him," Draco muttered, uncomfortable with the idea of having to actually go _out_ into the storm. He hated storms enough whenever he was indoors; the idea of actually going outside in the middle of one was enough to piss him off. Hell, it was enough to make him temporarily forget about his encounter with Hermione less than twenty minutes ago.

Hermione, however, still ached between her thighs and tried to contemplate, on the side, about her relationship with Draco now that the kiss had occurred. She could not spend much time on this, considering the situation at hand.

"Auto-heat and shield charms, Malfoy," she drawled in a perfect imitation of him; "keeps us warm and the snow out of our faces."

"But you said earlier that it barely lasted your walk back from Hogsmeade," he retorted.

"Yes, but I had walked the _whole_ way back from Hogsmeade. This should not take nearly as long and we'll be able to use our full strength."

"I…"

"If you're done complaining, Mr. Malfoy, we would like to head out and find our missing student who, if I am not mistaken, does not know the heating charm," McGonagall snapped before turning briskly on her heel, heading towards the door.

Grabbing Draco's arm, Hermione tugged the reluctant blond forward, following the teachers. They paused as the doors opened, exposing the swirling mass outside. A violent breeze tore through the entrance, freezing them to the bone until they all performed the Auto-Heat Charms.

"Remember, send out your Patronus if you find him," McGonagall shouted over the shrieking wind.

"Or if you get hurt or lost," Eli added, blond hair askew in the wind. "I'll take the Eastern side of the Forbidden Forest."

"We'll go to my hut," Hagrid said. "Little guy might've thought it'd be safe there."

"Mr. Malfoy, head in the direction of Hogsmeade," added McGonagall, much to Draco's dismay. "Miss Granger, I want you to go to the lake; he knows you best." Hermione nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. If Dennis was found in front of the monument, she might be the only one to pull him away from it. "I'll take the Western side of the Forbidden Forest."

"Keeps the shields up and the heat charms on and you should be fine," Hermione said to Draco as they headed out into the storm. "I'll see you later!"

Before he could reply, she gave him a quick peck on the lips and ventured out onto the grounds, disappearing in the swirling white snow. Grumbling and cursing, Draco headed off towards Hogsmeade, keeping his shields up and his spirit low.

The snow was rather high, Hermione noticed as she trudged through. She felt it soaking her pants, but no cold reached her skin. Waving her wand, she called out, "_Protego_!" and a shield formed around her body. Under normal circumstances, one found it rather difficult to move and keep the shield up. However, with years of practice and no actual curses being flung at her, it was far easier to keep it up.

She could hardly see in the white masses, the wind howling in her ears, eyes blinded by the flakes flying around in dizzying, violent dances. She moved slowly, unable to trot or run in the thick snow. Even with the heat charm, it felt terribly cold.

How on earth Dennis could be outside at this moment, she didn't know. He had probably lost feeling in just about every limb.

As she moved further, she began to scream out his name in hopes that he might hear and be able to call back. She had to find him…he was outside, alone, in the cold, without a friend in the world to help him.

She swore, loudly, over and over again, as a few flakes managed to sneak through her shield.

Damn it, maybe if she'd never told Harry to start D.A., then none of this would've happened. Collin would be still alive and Dennis would be the happiest boy on earth. She didn't think of all the other students who might've died without Dumbledore's Army; at this moment, she didn't care. Her thoughts were focused on one shivering boy, lost in the middle of a storm.

"Dennis!" she screamed, throat growing sorer by the minute.

She didn't know how long she walked for, had no idea of where she was; all she knew was that she had to find him.

Cursing loudly, she screamed his name again before realizing that the wind was taking it and sending it off in a wayward direction. Resisting the urge to stomp childishly in the snow, she trudged on, thinking of a way to make her voice loud enough to be heard over the roaring wind.

"How daft could I be?" she suddenly asked, pointing her to her throat.

The second her wand was lowered, the violent wind assailed her body. She stumbled and fell in a heap of snow, cursing and shouting, screaming about how cold the snow was against her skin.

Mumbling furiously, reminding to give Dennis a good tongue lashing once they got back, she got back to her feet, grateful that her wand had not stabbed through her throat when the wind decided to push her over.

"_Sonorus_," she muttered.

This time when she stretched her arm out, when the word, "_Protego_," left her lips, it was loud and booming, echoing across the field and over the wind. Smiling, she ignored the cold slowly creeping up her legs, she trudge on, shouting Dennis's name.

She had to find Dennis, had to make sure that he was okay, and then, once this horrible situation was done and over with, she could hide in her room and think about the consequences of her actions.

Suddenly, she lurched forward, landing face-first in a pile of snow, narrowly missing a large stone statue a mere foot in front of her head. Cursing, something she seemed to be doing quite a bit of lately, she rolled over onto her back, pushing her feet about to figure out just what she had landed on.

It moved…

"DENNIS!"

Lunging forward, she grabbed hold of the body, yanking him close her, using her body heat to warm him up. Crushing him to her body, she felt him trembling violently in her grasp, shivering, making the smallest of sounds.

Oh Gods, he felt so small in her arms, so tiny, reminding her sharply of how Collin had looked in Oliver's arms, being carried over to the dead.

Pressing her wand back to her throat, she murmured, "_Quietus_," returning her voice to its normal volume. Keeping it out, she turned Dennis so that he was facing her.

His skin was deathly white, almost luminescent in the blinding snow, and his lips were just tinged with blue. Taking his hands, she began to rub fervently in hers, trying to create some heat for his body.

She just barely heard his breathing over the wind, glad to know that he was still alive.

Murmuring softly, she casted the Auto-Heat Charm over herself and him, pulling him closer to her body in order to warm him up. She pressed her back against the monument, using it to block at least one quarter of the wind and snow. Huddling, she kept him in her arms, rubbing his body, keeping him close to heat him up.

Eventually, she murmured, "_Expecto Patronum_." Out of her wand was a silver otter than danced and swam in the air as though a raging storm was currently not taking place.

Leaning forward, she flicked her wand, initiating the process where she could record her voice on the otter and it would 'speak' to whomever she directed it to.

"I have Dennis; we're by the lake. I'm going to warm him up a bit and we'll be heading back; he's cold but fine. Somebody please notify Madame Pomfrey about his condition. I will see you all at the school, take care getting back." She wanted it to be short and curt, straightforward, and she did not want the teachers worrying their whole journey back.

They didn't have to know that Dennis was out cold, did they? No; she was positive, by the way he began to stir in her arms, that he would wake up any minute now, warm and refreshed.

Heat did wonders for the body.

"Go to Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, Eli Morningstar, and Draco Malfoy. Hurry, it's urgent," she said to her patronus, watching as it swam off into the swirling snow.

"Hermione…?"

She looked down, finding a pair of gentle blue eyes looking up at her. "Dennis," she said softly, leaning down so he could hear. "How are you feeling?"

"I…I don't know…" His face scrunched up with confusion. "I…I remember coming out here; I wanted to show Collin my article. It was really cold. I remember wanting to lie down…to sleep. I think I fell asleep or passed out." He looked around, surprised to find that they were still in the dancing masses of snow. "How…how come I don't feel cold anymore?"

She felt her lips curl into a tender smile, hugging him close to her body. "Auto-Heat Charm," she said. "It warmed you up, from the inside out."

"You…You came out to find me, didn't you?"

She pulled away, watching as his eyes brimmed with tears. "Yes, Dennis, we did. We were all very worried. McGonagall, Slughorn, Morningstar, Hagrid, and I," she added in response to the question in his eyes. "We wanted to find you and make sure that you were okay."

"I…I shouldn't have come out here." His face scrunched up, resembling the face of a five-year-old about to cry. "I…I was being selfish…wasn't I?"

"Oh Dennis," she murmured, features softening with each word. "You weren't being selfish. We all get lonely sometimes, especially around the holidays. It's always nice to spend them with someone you trust and love."

"But…" She saw the pain in his eyes; saw the agony within his heart as it tore.

The unspoken words hung in the air…

_I don't have anyone…_

"Dennis, from now on, anytime you want to laugh, to just relax and talk, come to the Tower and we'll hang you. We can laugh and talk, bake, and do a whole bunch of things. You can show me every article you make," she nearly sobbed, her own eyes filling with tears. "Remember, Dennis, you're like family to me."

His mouth broke into a crooked grin, a smile that was grim and content at the same time. "You'll be like my older sister."

"Yes," she said, "I'll listen to you whine and complain, you can annoy me if you want, just so long as you don't do this again. Promise?"

"Y…yeah…" His cheeks glowed from the tears, smile growing happier by the moment. "Can…can we come back tomorrow…if it's nice enough outside?"

"Of course, now get up; let's get back to the school."

She heaved him up, holding him as he got to his wobbly feet, and allowed him to lean on her for support. She reproduced the shield, although not as effective as it had been a short while ago; she was beginning to feel the exhaustion from using the charm for too long earlier on.

Their movements were slow, trudging through the snow, and about halfway back, the shield began to falter. Her hand trembled, wand barely staying in her grip as she fought to keep the shield up. Her Auto-Heat Charm was wearing off, too. Dennis's was fresh, but not powerful, while hers had been on for almost an hour.

Eventually, cold began to seep into her skin, biting at her flesh as the shield fell. The wind tore through her hair, blinding her eyes as she bowed her head, trudging onwards, determined to get Dennis back as soon as possible.

"Get behind me!" she shouted, hoping to shield some of the snow with her body.

He didn't argue; most Gryffindors knew better than to argue with her. He was beginning to feel the charm wear off, feeling little bits of cold here and there whenever the snow fell on his face. His feet were number, fingers swollen and red, and he knew that he was suffering from frost bite.

The exhaustion was tugging at her, trying to lull her into a sleepy state. The wind was violent, attacking her with all its might, as though it was trying to prevent her from getting back to the school. Her clothes were covered in a thick layer of snow, hair white, and her skin burned from the whipping wind.

She was tired…body worn out from abusing her magic, trying to prolong spells that were never meant to be held for lengthy periods of time. While she had not been assaulted by hexes; the shield had drained much of her energy. Add it to the efforts from earlier on in the day to create the shield, and things were not looking up concerning her energy level.

She stumbled, slipping on a patch of ice, and she felt Dennis's hand reach out and grasp her arm. His fingers were icy; she could feel them through her coat. She turned her head; saw that he shivered in the storm, lips that had started to turn rosy beginning to go blue again.

She had to get him back…

With renewed efforts, she threw her body into the snow, forcing her way through, making a clean path for the younger boy to follow her through. She pushed and trudged with all her might, forgetting about magic and spells; this required the basics every human being had; strength, determination, and the selfish need for survival.

She refused to let the elements take her and Dennis because magic had drained her energy.

"We're almost there!" she cried, seeing the faint lights of the castle appear up ahead.

"Good…"

His voice was faint behind her, barely audible in the wind, and she spun around just in time to catch his limp body as he gave into the exhaustion for the second time. Stumbling, she fell back into the snow, landing uncomfortably on her buttocks.

Panting for air, sweating in spite of the snow, she wanted to do nothing more than sit here and hold Dennis until sleep overwhelmed her. She could just lie here, in the soft snow, and sleep for as long as she wanted to. If she were asleep, she wouldn't be able to feel the biting cold…

Her eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly to keep out the flakes as she cursed herself for nearly falling asleep. Carefully, she got to her feet and managed to lift Dennis onto her back. It was uncomfortable; he was still rather heavy; she was not the strongest female on Earth. But she continued, pushing her way towards the lights, thinking that, in a short while, she would be able to find the doors open and a welcoming heat.

She had to keep going…

Almost…almost there…she saw their silhouettes now…saw them outlined in the doorway, waiting impatiently for her…

Almost there…

She placed a foot onto the concrete steps of the school, looking up at everyone rushed down to her, McGonagall barking out orders, Eli preparing various charms as Slughorn produced several potion flasks.

Her eyes fell on Draco, her Draco, the man who had haunted her dreams for the past two weeks. His brows were knitted in anxiety; lips frowned with fear as he limped over to her.

He reached out to grab her, to pull her up to the steps, and she smiled up at him…

She gave into the sleep…

**Hey all...my longest chapter by far, eh? Hope you all enjoyed it!**

**I debated quite a bit on how to begin this chapter (essentially on Hermione's reaction) but I could find no better way. Or at least, no other way that was overly clichéd and too perfect. **

**Sorry guys, just about no smut in this. Remember, we're talking Hermione here. She's not one to give her virginity away just because someone confessed that they care about her. But there was bum-grabbing!!!**

**I have decided that I must find a way to incorporate Draco's patronus into this story; I have the greatest idea for what it could be. **

**I also know that maybe Hermione finding Dennis and passing out may have been expected but, hell, we need something a little more to add to Draco's feelings for her. I had to rewrite half of that scene, by the way, because I was never satisfied. I'm still not completely satisfied, but it's not horrible. **

**If anyone wants to complain about the cliché, I understand. I suppose there is a little part of me that likes clichés and Mary-Sue'ish stuff. On occasion…**

**Thanks again to PerfectPotter for noticing more silly mistakes made by me. I haven't corrected them just yet, but I will as soon as I have a chance (or remember to…I have them written down, just to make life easier on me when editing.) A second thanks goes out to i'm-boored-of-being-adored121 for pointing out another mistake I made. Both of you shall receive your own key lime pie (unless you perfer another sweet...then you may have that, instead). I'm very grateful that you noted and made sure that I'm aware of the mistakes. Thank you guys very much!  
**

**One final notice: ZOMG! WTF! NEARLY 400 REVIEWS!**

**HOLY SHIT!**

**I love you guys. I really do. Nearly 400 reviews at only 13 chapters. WOW! You're all so amazing. Keep the reviews coming. Oh, and to a certain 'flamer,' don't worry, you're fueling the fire just fine.**

**Reviews overview:**

**Critical criticism = very welcome. Again, please note any spelling/grammatical errors I have made in your review. I am always very grateful.**

**Flames = duh, used to increase the passion between Hermione and Draco and melt all that bloody snow**

**Adoration = always welcome. It makes me happy. **

**One final note: I love Dennis. For the strangest reason, he is adorable and I love that I found a way to bring him into this story. ^.^**

**See ya!**

**P.S. title of chapter comes from Pink Floyd's album, Division Bell. Song is, obviously, "Lost for Words," although some of the lyrics from "Keep Talking" were perfect for Hermione and Draco's argument at the beginning.(I'll admit, the song itself, "Lost for Words," isn't not really perfect for the chapter...but "Lost for Words" (as a title) sounds perfect!)  
**

**Shutting up now! REVIEW!!!!! please.  
**


	16. Malfoys Don't Get Colds

**Chapter 15**

**Malfoy's Don't Get Colds**

"Now hold still! You can't keep moving like that!"

Draco shifted uncomfortably on the bed, fidgeting, fighting the urge to pace back and forth as opposed to letting Madame Pomfrey tend to him. His ankle hurt, yes, and he was cold, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil he was currently experiencing.

Her body had felt so light in his arms, so unbelievably cold, and he swore that he could barely hear her breathe. McGonagall had pointed out that the wind might have drowned out said sound, but his anxieties told him otherwise.

Fear gripped his heart in a frigid grasp, tightening its hold around him until he felt ready to explode. He couldn't just lie down and relax while Hermione lay motionless in the bed next to him. Her face was pale, colour gradually returning to her cheeks as Slughorn gently poured a potion into her mouth.

Madame Pomfrey had said that she would be fine; she was exhausted, low on energy, and just needed some time to warm up and recuperate. He, on the other hand, would be limping for a couple of days and would most likely get a cold.

He didn't give a damn about limping or colds; he just wanted to make sure that Hermione was all right.

Damn it, he should have gone with her! He shouldn't have let her go out alone! He should have stood by her, held her, and kept her warm during the whole walk. But no, he just _had_ to go towards Hogsmeade, just _had_ to listen to everyone but his gut instinct.

He had been regretting his decision from the second he saw her stumbling in the snow.

He cared about her, god damn it, had told her that, and instead of showing it, he had let her go off alone as though he didn't give a damn.

"Mr. Malfoy! Stop your fidgeting this instance! If you expect me to heal your ankle properly, you must stop moving!" Madame Pomfrey snapped for the tenth time.

"I need to know if she'll be okay!" Draco spat back, eyes glaring furiously at the Mediwitch in front of him.

Sighing, the older woman continued to tend to his ankle, must to his annoyance. "She will be fine. I already explained this to you, she is just…"

He tuned her out; she had repeated the same thing four times already and he knew the words by heart. He turned his gaze back to the young woman lying on the bed, hair gathered up to prevent the sheets from getting soaked, looking frail and small covered in the stark whiteness of the sheets.

He just wanted to go over there and hold her hand, to pull her into his embrace and keep her warm and safe.

His gaze left her for a second, looking across the room to where Slughorn now fed Dennis a potion. The boy was paler than Hermione, looking even more fragile in the bed. His lips were blue, but the rattling breath escaping them let everyone know that he was still alive and fighting.

"Mr. Creevey will be fine, as well," Madame Pomfrey said, noticing the direction of Draco's burning gaze. "He just needs rest, like Miss Granger. It is lucky she found him when she did; ten more minutes out there without warmth, and he would not have made it." She sighed softly, prodding the swollen ankle one last time with her wand, easing the inflammation, before standing up, brushing off her robes. "You will experience some slight discomfort and pain for the next couple of days; you tore a ligament. I healed it to the best of my abilities, but it will still be uncomfortable to walk on. I suggest you avoid running around the halls for the next week."

"I don't run around the halls," Draco muttered, immediately getting to his feet. He stumbled, ankle throbbing with a dull pain, but he managed to make his way over to Hermione's bedside.

"Don't come whining to me when you get a cold, boy," added Madame Pomfrey as she moved to tend to Hermione. "You should have known better than to go outside without a jacket."

He wanted to tell her that Malfoys don't complain and never get colds, but he was more focused on the woman in front of him. Her cheeks were rosier than before, life slowly returning to her face as her breathing deepened. She looked more like someone in a deep sleep as opposed to a rescuer needing to be rescued.

Damn it, he should have been there to help her! It hurt so much…hurt knowing that she could have…

No…no, he reminded himself, she was far from death; she was just tired. Used too much magic, exhausted herself, drained her energy…she had _not_ almost died…

But the way he felt, the gnawing anxiety that clutched to his body kept telling him otherwise.

"Mmm…"

His head darted up, watching as Hermione began to stir. He reached forward, unaware of his body's actions as he grabbed her hand and held it tight in his. Her skin was warm, far softer and warmer than it had been a good hour ago. She no longer felt cold and frozen, but warm and alive, soft and soothing, a touch that would heat and arouse.

"Draco?"

He watched her eyes flutter open, her orbs slightly glazed over from sleep and disorientation. He watched her blink several times, adjusting to the light and pushing away the fog of sleep as reality slowly came back to her. He saw the lines in her face; saw the way it hardened as her body tensed.

"Dennis. Where's Dennis?" she asked, sitting up, rocking slightly from the dizzying effect.

He tightened his grip on her hand, drawing her attention to him. "Pomfrey said that he'll be fine. He's over there." He gestured to where Dennis lay, noticing that his cheeks, too, had grown considerably rosier over time.

"I…oh, thank Gryffindor," she said, relaxing, allowing him to tug her back onto the sheets. "I was so worried that he wouldn't make it. When he passed out…"

"I was more worried when you passed out," Draco admitted quietly, pleased to see her shocked expression.

"What?"

"You're mental, did you know that? Going out there, overusing your magic, draining your energy like that. You should have brought him back to the school and _then_ sent the bloody patronus," he snapped, anxiety giving way to irritation. "Hell, you should have just shielded the two of you and you would've been fine for the walk back."

"You know very well that it doesn't work like that," she said with a glare in his direction. "And why are you snapping at me? Shouldn't you be happy that I'm awake and well?"

"I'm very happy about that," he replied with a nod, "but I am also frustrated that you pushed yourself so far."

"What would you have me do?" she growled warningly. "Would you have rather I spent all my magic on myself and ignored Dennis? That I just carried him on my back, trying to ignore the damn wind and snow?"

"I would have preferred it if you _hadn't_ passed out," he snapped.

"I…"

"Stop bothering my patients!" Madame Pomfrey materialized at his side, tsking him.

"I was not bothering her," Draco retorted, crossing his arms in indignation.

"You very well know you were," she replied. "Now move so that I can see to Miss Granger."

Draco glared but got to his feet, limping his way over to his bed to watch as Madame Pomfrey checked Hermione's body.

"All frost bite signs are gone," she muttered, examining Hermione's hands. "No fever, body temperature normal. How do you feel?"

"Rested," Hermione replied truthfully. "Like I had a good, long sleep; I'm not sore or tired."

"Good. Very well, I deem you fit to leave. Professor Flitwick dried and warmed your clothes; they're folded on the table beside you."

"H…how's Dennis?" Draco saw the way she bit her lip in worry.

"He will be fine," Pomfrey said, voice softening at the look in Hermione's eyes. "He's just resting. He was developing a bad case of frostbite on his hands and feet, but I think that it's just about all gone by now. He just needs to be kept warm and sleep for some while."

The Mediwitch turned to leave, before looking back at Hermione, adding, "And no, you cannot spend every hour here. I want you to head back to our dormitories and rest. You can come back tomorrow." With that, she briskly walked over to Dennis's bed, tending to him.

Hermione sighed with relief, closing her eyes as all anxiety washed away from her. She had been so worried that she had been too late, that Dennis wouldn't have made it back to the school. She had been terrified that he would have to lose digits or limbs, or that he would not have woken up once he'd passed out on her.

"Granger."

She opened her eyes, looking up to the blond standing by her. He had looked so scared, so terrified when she'd first opened her eyes. Now she saw the relief, saw the way his features softened as he realized that she would be fine.

She smiled in spite of everything that had happened.

"You really do care, don't you?"

Draco grinned and snorted. "Somebody has to take care of idiots that like to go traipsing out in the middle of snowstorms."

She reached out and swatted at his arm. "You're incorrigible."

He chuckled and waited patiently as she shut the curtains and dressed. He wanted to spend time thinking over what the kiss meant for them, to think about every little thing that had happened and come to some concrete conclusion. However, with everything else that had occurred, he only wanted to limp his way back to the Tower and snuggle with her in front of the fire.

He let out a quiet curse.

"What's the matter, Malfoy?" she asked, voice muffled from the curtains.

"The fire is still blue."

She laughed, throwing open the curtains to grin at him. "Not my fault."

"Entirely your fault," he replied, glancing back once more to Dennis, grateful that everything had turned out all right.

They made their way out of the Hospital Wing, Hermione hesitating briefly by the door to look back at Dennis. He could tell that she wanted to sit by the boy all night and day until he woke up and everything was fine.

"Come on, Granger, we have to do what the Mediwitch orders," he said, placing a hand on the middle of her back to tug her forward and out of the Wing. "Unfortunately," he added.

"But…what happened to your leg?" she cried, watching him limp ahead of her, arm stretched out to use the wall for support. It wasn't as horrific as it looked; the swelling had gone down and the bruises were fading rather quickly, but it was still uncomfortable to use.

He tried to explain this to her, mentally grinning as he watched her gnaw her lip and fret loudly, complaining that he should remain behind in the Hospital Wing.

He smirked as she looked up to him, sincere concern in her eyes, listening to her demand that he go straight back to the Hospital Wing and stay there until he could walk properly.

"You shouldn't be on your foot…you _tore_ a ligament! How on Earth you managed to do that, I don't know, but you _hurt_ yourself! You should be resting, not walking!"

His grin broadened and she paused in her complaints, narrowing her eyes at him. "Are you laughing at me?" she scolded, hands on her hips as she prepared for a good row. She was definitely feeling refreshed; whatever potion Slughorn had given her had managed to replenish every ounce of energy within her body. He must have left just before she woke up; she would have to thank him.

"You care about me," he pointed out, eyes twinkling, reminding her very much of Dumbledore's when he was up to some sort of mischief.

"What? What does that have to do with anything?" she asked.

"You really do _care_ about me, don't you?" He was smiling now, a broad smile that made his face glow with mirth.

It was a little unsettling for Hermione, to say the least.

"So what if I do? Is it so strange that I care about people?" She paused, wondering…"Did Madame Pomfrey gave you something for the pain? Anything that might cause hallucinations or delusions? Something that might make you feel high?"

"W…What?" he gawked. "What the hell is 'high'?"

She took a deep breath, trying to remember what her Muggle neighbour had taught that one summer, a special technique used to determine whether something was stoned as hell or not.

"Okay," she placed her hands in front of her, as though she held a box-shaped object in them, "here is an invisible box." She moved, as though lifting and placing the box over his head. "Now the invisible box is on your head."

Instead of the expected reaction, which would be Draco freaking out about a box on his head, the blond simply stared at her as though she had lost it.

"Have you gone mental?" he asked. "Did you hit your head on something outside?"

"But…but…I thought…" She flushed red with embarrassment, fidgeting uncomfortably on the spot.

"You thought wrong. I'm not 'high,' whatever 'high' means…and if it means I'll think there's an invisible box on my head, then I am obviously not 'high.'" He resisted the urge to hug her; she looked absolutely adorable with her face so red, hair wild around her face, body curled up in such a way that screamed awkwardness and shyness. "What the hell makes people 'high' anyways?"

"We'll leave that to a later discussion," she said; it wasn't that she didn't want to introduce him to the world of drugs; it was that she did not know much about drugs. She didn't spend her spare time reading about illegal substances; it just wasn't interesting to her. She preferred history, languages, anything that challenged her intellectuality more than memorizing which illegal drugs did what.

Besides, they were _illegal, _which meant she tried to avoid the topic at all costs.

"So…why were you smiling like that?"

His grin returned but the curiosity stayed within his eyes. "Tomorrow you'll teach me about getting 'high'?"

She sighed and nodded, waiting impatiently for his answer.

"Well," he grinned, "I am quite content to know that you care about me. See, the thing is, I care about you. Add the fact that we have snogged, _twice_, and you see where I'm going with this…"

She gaped at him, mouth hanging open, eyes as wide as saucers as she took in the meaning behind this. Was he being serious? Did he really mean that he wanted to establish or develop some kind of intimate relationship?

Was he asking her out?

Well now…this was a surprise; she was pleased at the idea of dating him.

She wasn't even certain if he was serious; the grin was far too unsettling, but there was something sincere about it…something in his eyes, in his smile, that told her that he was being quite serious.

When the hell had he had time to decide that he wanted to date her?

She had to admit, the kissing had been unbelievable and when she kissed him she felt a powerful connection like no other. He was her intellectual equal and never made her feel inferior; he appreciated her and told her so every day, either through their bantering or through a simple smile.

He would take care of her, unlike Ron, who either ignored her or argued with her, or Krum, who had either gone through a teenage crush or had intended to have another notch on his belt. Or bedpost, depending on his actual thoughts at the time, although Hermione was quite disgusted at said thought and immediately removed it from her brain.

Aside from that…

"Granger..."

"I'm thinking," she muttered, verbally swatting him away as one would physically do to a fly.

He was a good man; she was slowly starting to see the diamond within him that Luna said he possessed. Hell, from what Madame Pomfrey had said, he had carried her all the way to the Hospital Wing in spite of his injury. He had even been worried about Dennis, which made her fall just a little bit more for him.

Wait…since when did she start falling for Draco Malfoy?

When he had flashed her that boyish grin of his at the beginning of the year when they were introduced as Heads.

He was kind, had proven to be gentle when it asked of him, and he made her feel desirable and he managed to arouse her in a way no other man had been able to. With just a look, a touch, a whispered word, she yearned for him, ached for him, and would beg for him if she weren't so darn stubborn.

But she didn't know _enough_ about him. She didn't know his likes, dislikes, his favourites, his dreams, his passions; she only knew that they shared a physical connection.

What if…?

"Granger…"

She looked up at him, sending a pointed glare his way. "I told you," she snapped, "I'm thinking about it."

He tilted his head down, gently grasping her chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up so she looked at him.

"W…What are you…?"

"You have one beautifully analytical mind, Granger, but you think too much. For once, stop thinking and just _feel_," he murmured, lowering his lips on hers.

It was a gentle kiss, soft and soothing compared to the fiery, passionate one they had shared not long ago. It sent slow ripples of pleasure through her, ripples that gradually became waves as he subtly increased the pressure or tongued gently at her lower lip. He grazed his teeth over her lip, igniting her nerve endings and she let out a quiet moan.

She had been kissed a few times in her life, but never before had her body and mind reacted in such a way. No matter how the kiss went, whether it was tentative or bruising, fiery and passionate or tender and slow, his lips always managed to make her body ached and mind go blank. It was like a drug, ambrosia, something that threatened to altogether consume her if she wasn't careful.

She let out a shuddering breath as he pulled away, eyes glazed over as she started up at him, watching as his chest rose and fell from increased arousal, eyes darkened.

"I…"

"Don't think," he murmured.

She closed her eyes, trying to listen to him and her body as she fought to find an answer. It was too soon, her mind said; she barely knew him. There was too much physical attraction, her common sense added; it was all lust and no love. Since when did love become part of the equation? Since forever, her heart said; love was always a big part in this, you just didn't know about it.

He was Draco Malfoy, her conscience screamed. He was the reason behind their psychological torture for five years straight. He had called her a _Mudblood_!

But he was reformed, her heart replied. He had stopped being Pansy's friend because she had called Hermione a Mudblood. He had _stood up for her_. He had fought beside her in the war, had saved her life; he _cared_ about her.

She wanted to be with him, she realized. No matter how many times she tried to argue otherwise, she found that she wanted…maybe even needed…to be with him. She needed his touch, his soothing caress, to listen to his voice, to talk to him when nobody else wanted to. She was comfortable around him, more secure than she had ever been with anyone.

She liked him…

Quite a bit, actually…

"I…I suppose it wouldn't hurt to…try," she said softly, afraid to look at him. She wasn't sure if she would see shock, happiness, or arrogance.

"Good," he said. "We will go out tomorrow night. I suppose that the Three Broomsticks would have to suffice. There, we will talk and get to know each other, and from there on, we can decide what to do."

She opened an eye and arched a brow. "W…what the hell are you talking about? I haven't agreed to going out with you tomorrow."

"But you just agreed to go on a date with me," he pointed out with a smirk.

"But…tomorrow's too soon! I mean, I completely agree with you on getting to know each other; it would be easier that way, but…_tomorrow_?" she gawked, both eyes open now.

"Granger," he sighed, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "We have a very limited amount of time. I find that tomorrow would be simply excellent; we can go out, enjoy a nice Butterbeer and chat. Then, if things are good enough, we can come back to the Tower and spend some good quality time getting to know each other even better!"

She smacked him hard on the arm, glaring up at him. "I will _not_ shag you on the first date, Malfoy, get that straight you arrogant arse. Just because we share a physical attraction does not mean I will undress and spread myself for you. I refuse to have sexual intercourse with anyone unless…" she broke off, face reddening as the word flitted through her mind.

"Unless you love them," he said, the smile turning softer as he reached out to cup her cheek. "Don't worry, Granger, I won't defile you. I may come from a long line of Purist bastards, but I will not force anyone to have sex with me against their will." The boyish grin returned with a vengeance; his mood swings were starting to terrify her. "I'll assume that you didn't give in to Weasel, then?"

"I…uh…well…"

He clapped his hands, eyes glowing. "Brilliant! A virgin! How perfect!"

She kicked him sharply in the knee, destroying the smile and boyish glow. "You prat!"

"What?" he cried, gripping his knee, grimacing as both legs throbbed with pain.

"You just want to have sex with a virgin!"

"I do not! I've already had sex with a few virgins, thank you very much," he snapped. "If you must know, I liked the idea of being your first."

"You arrogant…what?" All annoyance faded from her at his words. "You wanted to be my first?"

"Well, yeah; first reason is to piss the hell off of Potty and Weasel, which entertains me to no end." He limped back as she moved to knee him in the groin. "The second – wait a minute! – reason is that, well, I have a somewhat romantic side and…" She watched as his face slowly began to redden, mottling on the cheeks.

"You're an arrogant sap, did you know that?" she sighed, unable to hold back a smile.

"A sap, yes, unfortunately, but arrogant, I am not. I am quite modest, thank you very much."

She moved forward, letting him lean on her for support. "Yeah, very modest," she replied, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Don't be jealous because I'm better than you."

"Jealous? You must be joking. Why would I be jealous of someone with lower grades than me?"

He rolled his eyes. "The only reason my grades are lower is because I have a social life."

"I have a social life."

"Nonexistent," he sighed. "I wouldn't consider Potty and Weasel as a 'social life,' and talking with Weaslette doesn't count, either. Face it, you don't have a social life, you virgin bookworm."

_Thud!_

"Miss Granger!" Hermione turned at the sound of hurrying footsteps, finding Professor McGonagall rushing after them. "My goodness, is Mr. Malfoy okay?"

Hermione glanced down at Draco, who currently lay in a heap on the floor, muttering various threats and curses. "Yes, Headmistress; he tripped and fell, but he will be okay." She tilted her head, keeping an innocent face when all she wanted to do was point and laugh at the man on the ground. "You wished to speak with me?"

"Yes. I wanted to thank you." McGonagall's eyes softened, happiness and a form of love exuding from them. "You very well saved Mr. Creevey's life, and while I believe you deserve more than thanks, the only thing I can offer are my words of gratitude and a gift of one hundred points to Gryffindor."

Hermione's face blushed a bright red. "But…but Headmistress…I can't possibly accept such a thing…I was just doing my duty as…"

"I helped too, Headmistress," Draco groaned from on the floor, raising a hand to direct attention to him.

"Yes, you did help, and got injured in the process. Thank you, as well, Mr. Malfoy, and I grant one hundred points to Slytherin. Now," she turned back to Hermione, ignoring poor Draco as he struggled to get to his feet, "I suggest that you take extra precaution for the next couple of days; you two are going to be very susceptible to colds, so I suggest you get rest, stay warm, and eat well. And," she added, "while it may have been your duty to help us find him, you went beyond duty. You saved a young man's life, Miss Granger. I think you merit more than a hundred points, but I cannot find such a suitable gift on such short notice."

"How's Dennis?" Hermione asked, face glowing brightly with joy and embarrassment. She really didn't feel that she deserved the points, but if McGonagall insisted…she supposed that she had no choice but to accept; it would be rude to refuse.

"When I left, he was still sleeping, but everything seems normal. His temperature is within the safe range and he had gained a lot more colour. He's very strong. It's all thanks to you that he's safe, alive, and healthy right now."

Hermione blushed, resisting the urge to look at her feet; if she were to look at her feet, then her gaze might be drawn to Draco, who was currently making several rude gestures in her direction.

"Thank you, Headmistress, but it was really thanks to everyone. If Dean and Seamus had not reported him missing, then he would still be out there."

"Quite right, however, you were still an essential part. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Thank you again, Headmistress."

"Take care and get some rest; I suspect that both of you must be exhausted from such a long afternoon." With that, McGonagall turned and walked away.

Once the Headmistress was out of earshot, Draco snarled up at Hermione. "You bitch!"

"What?" she asked, looking rather pleased. She didn't even try to appear innocent; it wouldn't work on him.

"You let me fall! You _threw_ me!" he declared furiously, leaning on the wall for support as he struggled to his feet.

"You called me a virgin bookworm!" she retorted, ready to push him back down again.

"That's because you are one!" he cried. "It shouldn't be an insult because you choose to keep you virginity and enjoy educating yourself."

"It's the way you said it, you prat, and you know it," she spat, swatting at him.

"You called me an arrogant sap," Draco argued, leaning on her for support as they made their journey back to the Tower.

"You agreed that you are a sap," she pointed out, digging her elbow just slightly into his back.

"But you still called me arrogant. Three times, I believe!" He squeezed her shoulder uncomfortably.

"That's because you _are_ arrogant!"

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"I am not and you know it!"

"You most definitely are!"

"When we get back, I'm going to snog you senseless."

"I'd like to see you try, arrogant prat," she scoffed.

"Is that a challenge?"

"I suppose so, since it will be quite challenging for you to live up to your name."

"Name?"

"Slytherin Sex Fiend."

"Really?"

"Yes."

He burst out laughing, almost to the point that they had to stop and let him lean on the wall.

"Oh Gods, people actually call me a sex fiend?" he choked, guffawing loudly.

"Unfortunately, many people here have very weak minds and are prone to pressure, bullying, and the Imperius Curse. Fortunately, I am not one of them," she said, nearly dragging him back to the Tower.

He continued to laugh until it was broken by one loud, powerful sneeze.

"Oh, careful, Mr. Arrogant; you might be catching a cold. I'm going to definitely have second thoughts about snogging you now," she chastised as they arrived at Aphrodite.

"Bah," he replied with a wave of his hand, "I can't possibly get a cold. Malfoys don't get colds."

* * *

"Fuck me."

"I told you so."

"You did not!"

"You have a cold."

_Achoo! Achoo!_

"I do not…my nose is itchy."

"Admit it, Malfoy, you have a cold."

Draco lay on the couch, groggy and irritated, covered in warm blankets as a fever caused his face to flush and his head to ache. His nose was annoyingly stuffed and his throat sore, as though he had spent the past ten hours screaming.

But he did not have a cold!

"Malfoys don't get colds," he groaned, rolling over with the intent to ignore her and sleep. "I'm just sleepy."

"You slept all last night, all this morning, and now you're sleeping the afternoon away!" she cried. "You have a cold!"

"Sod off, Granger," he grumbled, picking up the nearest pillow and tossing it at her.

When she let out a loud yelp and he started hearing a loud stomping sound, he lifted his head, opening his weary eyes to find Hermione stamping out a fire on the pillow.

The fire…the fire had blissfully returned back to its normal hue. Thank Salazar. He'd been so terrified that it would stay blue for the next three days.

"Malfoy, you prat, look where you throw things," she scolded, hitting his over the head with the pillow.

"Go away; can't you see that I'm trying to ignore you?"

"Can't you see that we're supposed to have our 'date' in three hours?" she asked, taking a seat in the nearest armchair. "Or are you too sick to go out?"

"I'm _not_ sick!"

"You look sick to me."

"I don't get sick."

"Could've fooled me."

"Granger…are you going to stand there yelling at me for the rest of the year, or are you going to start getting ready for our date?" he groaned, covering his face with his arm.

"Why should I bother?" she asked, moving over to him. "You're too sick to go out. I suggest that we spend our date here."

"Doing what?" he muttered, rubbing his aching head with his palm. "There's nothing to do that's date-worthy at Hogwarts."

She kneeled beside him, pity taking over as she saw the way he slumped on the couch, pain etching lines in his features that joined the frustration and annoyance that he could do absolutely nothing. Gently, she reached forward and placed the back of her hand against his forehead.

"What are you doing, Granger?" he asked softly, not wanting to let her know that her cool touch soothed him in ways no other touch had.

"You're warm," she murmured, brushing his bangs from his brows, "but not bad; just a slight fever." Waving her wand, she summoned a cloth and, with another wave, had it soaked in cold water. Reaching forward, she folded it over his brow. "This should help a bit."

"Can't you just go to the Hospital Wing and ask for a Potion?" he grumbled, keeping his eyes shut as the cold cloth helped ease his headache.

"I did," she replied as she stood up, deciding to head into the kitchen. "Madame Pomfrey said that they were all out, but that Slughorn was brewing some. They should be ready in a day or so."

"One more day or torment!" he cried. "You cursed me!"

"I did _not_ curse you," she scoffed, opening the cupboard to pull out a can and a few packets. "You cursed yourself by going outside without your bloody jacket."

"I didn't have time to go to my room and get it," he whined.

"You most certainly did," she snapped, purposely clanging a pot onto the stove, causing him to growl in pain.

"Granger, loud noises are very bad right now!"

"Yes, but you deserved it." She poured water into the pot and set it to boil. "And you better watch your tone, or you won't get any soup."

"But I'm not hungry."

She narrowed her eyes in his direction, prodding the pot with her wand to bring it closer to a boil. "When you are sick, it is best that you eat as much as possible and drink a lot of water and juice. I am making you chicken soup, you will eat the soup, and you will also drink the tea I am making."

He squirmed uncomfortably under the blankets. "You sound like Mrs. Weaslette."

"I learnt from the best," she replied, remembering the one and only time Draco had ever stepped foot into the Weasley household. It had been after a rather long and grueling battle, and he, Hermione, and Harry had been covered in cuts and blood. Mrs. Weasley had taken one look at them and had scolded them for the longest period of time. In fact, she had been so busy worrying over their injuries that, once everyone was healed, only then did she notice that Draco Malfoy had stepped foot into her home.

She had been about to scream after him and hex him out of her home until Bill had done something rather surprising. The eldest Weasley reached forward and grasped Draco's hand in a brotherly handshake, thanking him for taking care of Hermione, Harry and Ron.

Mrs. Weasley then chased Draco and Bill out of her home.

Tugged from her thoughts by the sound of boiling water, Hermione emptied the packet into it and began to stir.

"Why are you doing this?"

She looked over in his direction, his body blocked by the back of the couch, and she smiled at the sound of his voice. "Why else, Malfoy? I care. Besides, if I don't take care of you, you'll find even more reasons to complain."

He grinned even though she couldn't see it. "Thank you, Granger." He reached up and adjusted the cloth, pinching the bridge of his nose to fight back another onslaught of throbbing pain from his sinuses. "So, how do you propose we have our date, in spite of the circumstances?"

She touched the laptop sitting on the table, beside which lay several DVDs. "Oh, I think I have a very good idea of what we could do."

"Why am I suddenly afraid?"

**

* * *

**

Here we go. Sorry, I would've had this up a couple of days ago, except I decided to surprise my fiancée by spending a couple days at his house (without his knowledge…his mom and I planned it all). 

**Next chapter: Hermione and Draco's date. The Grangers arrive, how will they react? Why did they never get the clue when Hermione asked for her laptop? Various other questions will be posed and only a few will be answered. **

**By the way, in the last chapter, I tried adding more spaces between my final line and by Author's note, but it didn't seem to work. I'll retry it for this one using a different method.**

**Today's recipe!**

**Jasper Christmas Pudding**

**Ingredients:**

**-2 cups (500 mL) seeded Lexia or seedless Thompson raisins **

**-1-1/2 cups (375 mL) currants - 2/3 cup (150 mL) applesauce  
-1/2 cup (125 mL) each chopped candied orange and lemon peel  
-1/2 cup (125 mL) each porter and lager  
-3 tbsp (50 mL) each brandy, port wine and rum (or 1/2 cup/ 125 mL rum or brandy)  
-1/2 tsp (2 mL) cinnamon -1/4 tsp (1 mL) each cloves, ginger, nutmeg and salt  
-1/2 cup (125 mL) butter, softened -1/2 cup (125 mL) packed brown sugar  
-1 egg - 1-1/2 cups (375 mL) fresh bread crumbs  
-1-1/4 cups (300 mL) sifted cake-and-pastry flour  
-1/2 cup (125 mL) ground almonds **

**Preparation:**

**In large airtight container, stir together raisins, currants, applesauce, orange and lemon peels, porter, lager, brandy, port wine, rum, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, nutmeg and salt. Cover and refrigerate for 1 week.**

**2. Grease 6-cup (1.5 L) pudding bowl; line bottom with parchment or waxed paper. Set aside.**

**3. In large bowl, beat butter with sugar until fluffy; beat in egg. In separate bowl, whisk together bread crumbs, flour and almonds; stir into butter mixture alternately with fruit, making 3 additions of dry ingredients and 2 of fruit.**

**4. Scrape into prepared bowl, pressing well. Place disc of parchment or waxed paper directly on surface. Cut square of foil large enough to cover top of bowl and reach one-third down side. Make 1/2-inch (1 cm) pleat down centre of foil. Place over bowl; press down side. With string, tie foil firmly to bowl about 1 inch (2.5 cm) from rim. Fold foil up over rim.**

**5. Place on rack in stockpot or deep saucepan. Fill pot with enough boiling water to come two-thirds up bowl. Cover and steam, replenishing water if necessary, until skewer inserted in centre comes out clean, about 3 hours.**

**6. Let cool on rack. (**_**Make-ahead: Overwrap with heavy-duty foil; refrigerate for up to 2 weeks or freeze for up to 1 year. Remove overwrap; bring to room temperature. Steam as directed until hot, about 1-1/2 hours**_**.) Makes 12-16 servings. **

**Brought to you by Canadian Living Magazine, December 2006 edition (found on website, address will be given to those who ask).**

**Review overview:**

**Constructive criticism – very much welcome, same rule as usual applies to any mistakes found in text**

**Flames – used to increase the passion between Hermione and Draco**

**Adoration – always loved, keep it coming! **

**Take care! Until the next one!**


	17. Perfect Reality

**Chapter 16**

**Perfect Reality**

The slightly opaque, yellowish liquid sloshed to the sides of the bowl, threatening to spill over as the shapes of noodles began to edge towards the surface. Grey eyes glittering with disgust, Draco glowered childishly down at the bowl before him, glaring with such strength that the watcher, Hermione, feared the bowl might blow up in any second.

"Draco, stop glaring at the soup; it won't hurt you," she snapped after several minutes of watching the grown man glower. "It's bloody soup!"

"It does not look appetizing," he grumbled.

"I'm not a bloody chef; I just thought of any canned soup and that's what appeared in the cupboard."

"I don't want it," he whined, sniffling pathetically.

Rolling her eyes, she resisted the urge to slam her fist down on the coffee table. "Draco Malfoy, you will eat that damn soup because I bloody well say so. I don't care if it looks appetizing or not, I don't care if you want it or not, you're sick, and sick people eat soup," she snapped, having dealt with his childish whining for a good ten minutes already.

Draco Malfoy was really quite annoying when ill.

Eyeing her with a mixed sense of pride and irritation, Draco arched a brow in the brunette's direction before tossing her an award winning smile. Not that Hermione would be handing out awards any time soon. "Let me just ask you one more question."

"Do I have a choice? You'll ask it anyways," she sighed, rubbing her face.

"Why do we even have to eat chicken noodle soup? I mean, when you're sick, you ought to be getting more nutrients and vitamins in your body, and there are a lot more things out there with more nutrients in them than soup."

The entire world seemed to halt on its axis as Hermione's jaw slowly dropped open. Her heart slowly thundered to a temporary halt as time stood still. Every movement slowed down, every little thing decreased in speed, until suddenly time sped right back up again.

"I…what…did you just ask me an_ intelligent_ question?" she gawked, absolutely flabbergasted.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" he replied with a rather knowing, condescending smirk. His eyes held a puckish glow that suddenly unnerved the brunette. "A salad would have far more important nutrients in it than this, or even a good, hearty vegetable soup. Why is it that Muggles always have chicken noodle when, compared to the alternatives, it is the worst thing one should have considering nutrition?"

"I…I don't…I'm not…Oh hell," she muttered, wishing her hair was loose so that she could run her hands through it. "Just eat the damn soup, drink your bloody tea, and shut the hell up."

"But I do make a good point, don't I?" he said, gesturing towards her with the spoon.

"Either you shove that soup into your mouth or I will, and I won't be nice about it. Pick one," she snapped, moving away the annoying prat and making her way into the kitchen.

He grinned to himself, dipping the spoon into the soup. '_I knew it; Malfoys are always right._'

Hermione, all the while, busied herself in the kitchen. She had a plan and she was not going to let Draco's childishness ruin it for either of them. She had everything she needed right here with her, the laptop, the stack of discs, the food and drink, and a cozy blanket. Hell, she even had the perfect location.

All she needed was for Draco to shut his trap, eat his soup, and let her continue on with developing her plan.

Munching on a cookie, one of the last from the batch she had made on Monday, Hermione considered her options of what to eat for lunch while the git slurped his soup. Debating briefly, she finally made a decision and began the process of boiling some pasta. While she listened to the water bubble rapidly, she chose to ignore Draco's complaints.

It seemed that he had finished about half of the soup and was now whining about a hair or something within the broth. She, in all due honesty, could care less; he was probably making it up as an excuse to dump the food.

She, all the while, had to figure out what to do first. She had the DVDs, had them stacked in chronological order, but knew that chronology meant nothing when it came to watching them in the right order.

"Fine, keep ignoring me, you bloody witch; but I refuse to eat the rest of this pathetic excuse for soup," he suddenly cried, breaking through her thoughts.

Sighing softly as she drained the liquid from her noodles, she chanced a glance in his direction. Arching a brow, she saw him sitting up on the couch, eyes narrowed in annoyance, hair tousled around his flushed face. Gnawing on her lip, she put down the strainer and moved over to him.

The smirk on his lips soon fell into a flat line of confusion as her cool hand was suddenly pressed against his burning forehead. Her touch was blissfully cool, soothing his heating flesh as it made his blood roar with pleasure. Without meaning to, his eyes slowly shut as he unconsciously pressed against her hand, needing to feel her touch.

Gently, she sat down on the couch beside him, forgetting their earlier argument, tenderly moving her hand down to cup his cheek. If she had not been so worried about his health, she would have giggled when he nuzzled against her palm with a satisfied smile.

"You're hot," she murmured.

His grin broadened and he snuggled against her hand, finding a way to press it against the back of the couch, refusing to let her move it away. "I know that," he replied; "I'm the hottest thing Hogwarts has ever seen."

"Not that, you conceited prat," she said with a chuckle. "I meant that you're physically hot. You're burning up; you have a fever."

"Malfoys don't get fevers," he said, opening his eyes to give her a scorching look. "But, I do get hot over a certain brown-haired Muggle-Born."

Blushing darkly, she went to remove her hand and move away when he leaned forward, grasping her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Smirking, more in possessiveness than conceit or arrogance, he tugged her forwards and pressed his lips against hers.

The slow burning fire of the chaste was just about to reach its crescendo when his tongue darted out to rub against her lips. The simple action caused her to pull away, in spite of the need surging through her body, ignoring the battering of her heart and yearning in her blood.

"I…I suppose I will admit that I would gladly snog with you," she mumbled, wanting but unable to tear her eyes away from his as her cheeks burned from the admission. "But…but you're sick and I can't possibly take a chance; I can't afford to get sick right now."

Sighing loudly, letting out a rather annoying tsk, Draco tried not to roll his eyes. "I've told you a thousand times, Hermione; Malfoys don't get sick."

"It seems to me that this one has," she replied. "Now lie down."

He grinned broadly, lying back on the couch, hands behind his head. "Well, I wasn't expecting this so soon, but I suppose Gryffindorkettes were always kinky."

She had no clue how many times she had rolled her eyes today; she had lost count just shortly before making his lunch, but she found herself unable to stop performing the action. "I want you to lie down so that you can get some rest. You're sick and you need to relax and keep your strength. Sitting up requires more energy than lying down."

"Aw, come on," he replied, "don't you know that sexual activity boosts the immune system?"

"Yes, I did, but I must point out that it won't help you because you're already sick. Besides, why would I …want to…you know…with you? What makes you think that, just because we kissed a few times, I'm going to jump into your pants?"

"Because I am a charismatic sex God, meaning that I am omniscient and, therefore, know all. I know that every woman wants to jump into my pants," he replied, opening an eye to watch her reaction.

She didn't know why, but at the mention of other women with him, at the simple of thought of another woman kissing and touching him, a powerful rage slashed through her body. She saw green, felt jealousy tug and pull at her heart as she tried to push the images and ideas out of her mind.

The idea of Draco with another woman…

It actually hurt…

Biting back any and all remarks that had to do with the harlots who dared to touch him, she swallowed the envy with great difficulty and regained some composure.

"Draco, we haven't even had our 'date' yet …"

"Thanks to you and your insistence that I am 'sick'," he blurted, cutting her off.

"So, while we have snogged on a couple occasions, and we had admitted that we care about one another, I think that it would be wise to wait before even discussing the topic of…sexual relations," she continued as though he never spoke, her cheeks growing redder as she neared the final words.

Turning her gaze back towards him, having averted it when the first thoughts of sex crossed her mind, she felt all anticipation fade away as she took in the sight of him lying back, eyes shut, mouth slightly open as his chest slowly rose and fell.

Go figure, when they argued, he was wide awake; when they were ready to have a serious discussion, the prat just had to fall asleep.

Rolling her eyes, she stood up and began to make her way back into the kitchen. Briefly, she paused and leaned up, tugging the blanket up more securely around his body.

"We'll have our date," she murmured, "a little later."

* * *

She had to admit, she felt quite terrible at this point in time. Things had become awkward rather quickly once the couple stepped past the threshold to find that not was as it seemed. Their curiosity had quickly turned to wonder, then to annoyance, and finally to realization as they began to add two and two together.

Their daughter had requested they send her laptop and DVDs to her, and they had only assumed that she was already at the Burrow and wanting to show everyone Christmas movies. The thought that she might be staying back at Hogwarts had never crossed their minds.

Her mother had been sympathetic and kept her temper down, bringing the Grangers into the kitchen for tea and explanations while her brothers brought their luggage upstairs. She was grateful, however, that her father would be present and her youngest brother was still sulking in his room.

A certain green-eyed boy materialized at her side, earning her attention with only the slightest of grunt.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, glancing back towards the kitchen. "I don't know what will happen. Hell, I don't even know how to feel right now. Earlier…it was so easy to forget, to pretend that she would come and visit us, to imagine that maybe she went to her parents' place first. But now that they're here and she's not…it's so unbearably awkward."

"I know Gin," he replied, ushering her towards the living room. "But what can we do? We can't try to get any answers until tomorrow. For now, we'll have to grin and bear it."

"Gods, this is frustrating!" she exclaimed. "All of this! It's so easy to hate her now, to think that she's a selfish bitch, that all she cares about it herself! But…but…"

"That's not who she is, and we know it," Harry finished. "I know. I know. That's why tomorrow; I'm going to ask her if it's all worth it. Hell, forget her relationship with Ron; she is probably pushing her own parents away. I need to know if it's worth it."

"If what's worth it?"

Both heads spun as a familiar but recently unfamiliar voice filtered towards them. Ginny had to fight hard not to let her mouth hang open in shock while Harry fought back tremors of fear.

"Ron? What…what are you doing down here?" Harry asked, grateful that his voice didn't squeak with surprise.

The redhead shrugged. He looked slightly gaunt; it was expected of someone who had not been eating properly in over a week. His hair was disheveled and his clothes covered in wrinkles, as though he slept in them and wore them each day. There was the slightest unruly five o'clock shadow on his chin and cheeks, which only accented the homeless-like appearance Ronald Weasley was currently donning.

"I was hungry…and I saw that _her_ parents arrived."

His voice was just slightly hoarse, as though he spent hours yelling at some unseen object. His eyes had an eerie glow to them, his lips curled into an odd smile, as though all sanity was leaving him.

"Ron," Harry said hesitantly, moving slowly to reach out to him, "you can't let this destroy you. It's not worth it."

"Not worth it?" he barked loudly, causing silence to flow from behind the kitchen doors. Harry knew; they were listening in. "Not worth it? The little bitch stayed behind with _him_! With that pathetic excuse for a wizard! She left _me_ for _him_! And it's not worth it?"

"Ron," Ginny said softly, unconsciously reaching out for Harry's unoccupied hand, clinging onto it with fear for her brother. "I bet it's not that. Maybe…maybe she did have some unexpected Head duties. We don't know why she stayed back, but I can assure you that it wasn't for him."

"How do you know for sure?" Ron snapped. "How do you know? They've been living together since September! Hell, she probably spent more time with him on her birthday than with me! How do you know that she's not with him right now?"

"She never mentioned it…"

"Never mentioned it! Do you honestly expect her to come right out and tell you that she's been shagging Draco Malfoy? She wouldn't say it; she knows how you would react. She knows how we'd all react! She's fraternizing with the enemy! Again!"

"You're not making sense," Harry said softly.

"I make perfectly good sense. She's shagging a Death Eater! She's a traitor! It's just like Fourth Year all over again. Back then it was Krum, now it's Malfoy. Draco _fucking_ Malfoy! She…she left me for Malfoy!" his voice began to choke, to break, as though he tried to fight back barrage after barrage of sobs. "What does he have that I don't? He's a prat, a bully; he never gave a damn about her or any of us. Why…why did she choose him over me?"

Harry watched in horror as his friend melted down in front of him. He saw the exhaustion line the redhead's face, watched as his body crumpled into a kneeling position as his hands cupped his face. Harry watched as Ron's strength, determination, and hate melted away into something he had never seen before in his friend's eyes.

It was something that terrified him…

Absolute despair…

"I _love_ her! I love her so much…and she knows it…I know she cares about me…I see it in her eyes…so why? Why does she choose him over me?" He ended his broken sentence in a wailing cry that had footsteps rushing towards him.

Harry moved forward, barely aware of the horror on Mrs. Granger's face as her husband held her tightly. He barely saw the way Molly clenched her fists and teeth in rage directed towards the bushy-haired brunette in Hogwarts. All Harry could see was his friend on the ground, in the worst pain imaginable.

He reached out and pulled him tightly into his embrace, hugging Ron like he had never hugged anyone before. Ron was like a brother to him, he was his best friend, and it tore his heart to watch his friend break down like this.

'_I'll find out why, Ron,'_ he thought as he felt Ginny's arms join his in a hug of warmth and consolation. '_I'll find out for you…I promise.'_

* * *

"So…I just put this…thing into my mouth, drink some water and swallow it? Whole?"

"Stop sounding so scared, it's not _that_ big."

Draco held up a strange green capsule between his thumb and forefinger, examining it with great scrutiny and care. "It's rather large…" he said hesitantly.

"You've already taken two less than an hour ago," she pointed out, shaking a packet of Tylenol Cold and Flu tablets. "This one will help your headache."

"For all I know," he said, turning his head to point an accusatory glare in her direction, "this could be poison, or some sleeping draught, and when I'm asleep you will have your wicked, selfish ways with me and I won't even know it."

"It's called Advil Liquid Gels, it's an extra strength pill for headaches and pain, and as soon as you take it, both of our headaches will go away," she sighed in irritation. Honestly, the second the man woke up, he resumed his activities of annoying the hell of out her.

"How will it get rid of your headache?" he asked with honest curiosity in his eyes as he glanced towards her.

"It will get rid of your bloody headache, which will then cause you to stop whining and annoying the hell out of me, which will then get rid of my headache," she snapped. "Honestly, do you enjoy irking me?"

He popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it with a quick sip of water. "Honestly? Yes."

"Why?" she groaned, setting up the laptop on the coffee table in front of them and inserting a disc into the DVD drive.

He grinned and sat back. His sinuses were slowly clearly up with the help of tissues and the cold pills he had taken a while back. His mind was clearing and he felt more awake with each passing second. Although, this might have been because he slept straight from noon until about six o'clock, but he couldn't be too sure. About half an hour in, he had 'annoyed' Hermione to the point that she had practically shoved the first two pills down his throat, and had spent the past hour whining about his aching head.

It was quite entertaining, watching her face flush with ire as her body tensed with frustration. She wouldn't hit him, although he saw her fight back the urge more than once today, and she couldn't hex him because she was a Head, it was against school rules, and she was Hermione Granger. So, she resorted to yelling at him, sighing heavily, and giving him the most delightful reactions to his taunting and whining.

"Do you want absolute honesty?" he asked, sitting back on the couch, buried underneath his soft, slightly fuzzy green and silver blanket.

"Why do you think I asked?" she replied, standing to move back into the kitchen. He heard the sound of the cupboards opening and closing, and then the microwave door opening, clicking shutting and the buttons being pressed.

It whirred to life and, after a minute, he heard loud popping sounds coming from inside the machine. Curious, but not curious enough at this point in time, he snuggled back into the corner and smiled.

"It's your reactions, luv," he replied, eyes glittering in the faint light of the room. "You have the most fascinating reactions. You always get so flushed, so frustrated and annoyed, and it is so entertaining. _That_ is why I make a living out of annoying you."

A delightful smell wafted over to him, a cross of butter and something he couldn't place, a delicious scent that made his mouth water and stomach growl. Smacking his lips, he lifted his head to look over the back of the sofa to watch his lovely Gryffindor stop in her tracks at his words.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._ The microwave completed its job and announced it, resulting in Hermione pressing the button to open the door. She, however, was not concentrated on the task and focused all of her attention on the blond seated on the couch.

"You prat. You honestly act like a twit to get a rise out of me?"

"Well, yes. It's very entertaining, and only of late I noticed the way it made your chest heave. Rather arousing, I must say." He was treading very thin ground and he knew it; he just wanted to get one more rise out of her before she obtained some common sense and stopped reacting the way she did.

"You…you…Bloody hell!" she snapped, throwing her hands in the air in an attempt to quell the exasperation flowing through her body. "You are so unbelievable."

He smirked. "I know, but you like it, or we wouldn't be having our date and you wouldn't have given me those poison pills to help me."

"They're not poison," she reiterated, pulling an inflated bag out of the microwave, dumping the sizzling contents into a large bowl. "And I told you, it was more to get you to shut up."

"Oh, stop lying," he said with a grin, watching as she filled two glasses with water and ice. "I know you did it because you felt bad and you care about me."

A ghost of a smile fluttered across her lips as she glanced towards him, eyes softening in the light. "Perhaps."

With a wave of her wand, she levitated the bowl ahead of her, carrying the glasses in her hands, just barely holding the wand at the same time. Focusing all of her concentration on the bowl, she ignored every little word spoken by Draco. Although, for some odd reason, he was just sitting back, grinning from ear to ear, with his eyes shut and hands behind his head.

One could suppose that, particularly in the case of Draco Malfoy, when one said they cared about a person, that person reveled in the joy and love that warmed their body. Draco Malfoy was no exception to the warmth he felt from being cared about; he basked in it, rarely experiencing such a wonderful sensation.

"What is that wonderful smell?" he asked as the scent came closer to him.

"Popcorn."

"Really?" he asked, opening an eye to take in the sight of the buttery, warm popcorn that nearly overflowed from the bowl that just landed on the table.

"What else did you expect popcorn to smell like?" she replied, placing his glass closer to him and tugging the coffee table closer, tucking her legs under her body in order to press the table right against the couch.

"Well…not that delicious, I'll admit." Perhaps the drugs were affecting his mind; he was definitely saying everything he was thinking, and this would have petrified him depending on the circumstances. "Most of the time it's from the Great Hall, and it never smells this good."

"And the other times?" she inquired, reaching for to open up a media program on the laptop.

"Burnt. Mum burnt it all of the time; don't know how, really, the process of cooking it is so simple," he replied truthfully with a shrug of the shoulders. It was something he could talk about without recalling bad memories or being thrown onto thin ice. Popcorn was a safe topic.

"I suppose when you try to pop it yourself, you could burn it," she admitted after a moment's silence.

He directed an accusatory glare towards her. "Don't laugh at my mum."

She smiled warmly at him, summoning her own blanket, red and knitted by Mrs. Weasley, and burrowing under its warmth before replying; "I'm not laughing at your mum. More at…a memory of burnt popcorn…you see, my parents are dentists…"

"What are dentists?"

"Doctors for your teeth," she quickly explained with a grin. Sometimes she forgot that Draco Malfoy was completely naïve when it came to her world. "Anyway," she continued, "since my parents were dentists, they never looked too fondly at popcorn. Always said it would ruin your teeth and bits of the kernel could get stuck in your gums and cause an infection. Although, I don't see how; I've eaten popcorn hundreds of times and never got an infection or a broken tooth. That's beside the point," she waved her hand, as though dismissing the subject. "When I was old enough, and I had accumulated enough allowance, I would sometimes go to the grocer or corner store and buy myself a bag of popcorn."

"Already popped like this? But why would you want to cook it more?" he asked, gesturing to the bowl.

"No, silly," she chuckled. "I wanted to make some, so I would buy the kernels. In some cases, the kernels were in a sealed package along with butter that, when heated in a microwave, would melt and coat the kernels as they pop. On my first day, I bought myself an extra buttery bag of popcorn and brought it home. I had to hide it; my parents got home shortly after, and I waited until the next day to be able to pop it. So, I threw it into the microwave and…"

"You burnt it?"

"Think of it this way, I was only eight at the time; it was surprising enough that my parents let me stay home alone for two hours before the sitter showed up. I barely knew what buttons to press on the microwave." Her grin broadened but her cheeks flush, a mixture of humour and embarrassment that made his eyes glow. "I set the microwave on fire."

"The almighty, overly intelligent Hermione Granger set her microwave on fire making popcorn. I would congratulate you in a sarcastic tone, but I have a very odd feeling that I would set the microwave on fire too," he admitted with a smile.

"I'm afraid that you would probably set it on fire defrosting a frozen crumpet," she chuckled, bringing the bowl of popcorn in between them.

"But it's frozen solid, right? You'd have to put it in there for quite a few hours, correct?" Draco asked with absolute honesty.

She burst out laughing, nearly wiping tears from her eyes as she choked on laughter. Her sides hurt, her chest heaved, and still she laughed. The image of Draco standing in front of a microwave, setting it for five hours to defrost a small crumpet filling her mind.

"No…oh dear…you put it for only a few seconds…" she choked out, reaching out to wipe the tears as they managed to flood from her eyes.

"Only a few seconds to defrost a frozen solid item? Ingenious," he gaped in awe, unconsciously reaching out to grab a handful of popcorn. It was warm and moist in his hands, the butter making it sticky but slippery. Tossing a few in his mouth, he chewed, hesitating to explore the flavour of the buttery popped kernels.

"Amazing," he said with a grin. It was delightful, a perfect mixture of butter and salt, not too much, but not too little, and the sound it made only further enticed him. It was fascinating how something as simple as corn could turn into such a delicious treat.

She tossed a smirk his way while throwing a piece in the air and catching it with her mouth. "How about we stop talking about the food and get this date on the way?"

"And what exactly is this date going to entail?" he asked, tossing a few more pieces into his mouth.

Her smirk broadened as she clicked "Play" on the movie player. "I'm going to instruct you on the world of Christmas films."

"I know what Christmas is, but what's a 'film'?" he asked, arching his brow with sudden distrust. He hated it whenever she used Muggle terms around him; he was always secretly afraid that, one day, she might con him into doing something embarrassing or horrid.

"It's a moving picture," she explained.

"Muggles have pictures that move too? But I heard Potty nearly shit himself when he saw paintings moving," Draco replied, awe making his eyes lighter.

Rolling her eyes, she moved the mouse around the Menu Screen, clicking on "Play Movie." "No, Draco. This is a little different. See, Muggles have this technique in recording movement. Not just by taking one picture, but…well, I suppose it's like taking a million pictures a second, recording every little movement. And it's a little different than paintings by witches and wizards. See, every movement recorded is replayed on a disc or cassette. And whatever was recorded it reenacted. The characters can't just suddenly decide to do something else or move off screen. It is an exact recording of what the people were doing in real life at the time they were being filmed." She sighed, pausing the film to turn and look at him. "I'm not doing a good job explaining this, am I?"

"Not at all," he replied with a shrug. "However, I think I get the gist of it. It's like taking a photograph, only it records movement. Right?"

"Yes, somewhat like that. Only it's more complicated. I, however, do not know everything there is to know in the world of cinematography, so I can't properly explain everything."

Draco grinned over to her through a mouthful of popcorn. "You're actually admitting that you don't know something?"

Letting out a growl, she felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment as the blond continued to grin childishly. Resisting the urge to dump the popcorn bowl over his head, she gave him a jerky nod and focused her attention on focusing the volume for the film.

His laughter was expected, as were the words that represented his joy at discovering that Hermione Granger did not know anything. What she didn't expect, however, was how he leaned over and gave her a small peck on the cheek.

"How about this, Hermione, you learn about cinematography and I'll learn about…working microwaves?"

Momentarily stunned, she couldn't help but stare at him for several seconds before her brain properly processed the information. Had Draco Malfoy just … hell, she couldn't find the proper words to explain his actions. All she knew was that, instead of using the moment to embarrass her into hiding, he had admitted his lack of knowledge on something and had almost dared her to learn more than he knew.

"I…well…I…I suppose…but it'll be a lot easier for you to learn about microwaves than it will be for me to learn about films," she replied after regaining some mental strength. "How about you learn about working ovens, too?"

He pulled his lower lip into his mouth as he contemplated her suggestion. The action made her stomach perform several acrobatic moves that her body would never be able to replicate. Warmth spread from her womb out, slowly heating her flesh as her heart began to increase in speed.

She wanted to kiss him so badly, to suck his lower lip into her mouth and bruise it, to listen to him gasp against her lips as she moaned from his every touch. If she weren't so modest, she would have been naked and around him in seconds. But, she had a sense of decency and modesty, a level of self-respect that would never allow her to be naked in a man's arms after only two days into their 'relationship'.

Besides, Draco was sick and she really couldn't afford to get sick.

For now, she drank in the sight of him and tried her damndest to fight back against her body's arousal. She still wasn't used to the way her muscles tightened and how the liquid heat just seemed to pour from between her thighs. It still felt strangely unnaturally, yet oddly natural when around such a sensual man.

Oh Gods…if she slept with Draco Malfoy, how was she going to be able to explain it to her friends?

"I suppose learning about ovens couldn't hurt," he said, his words a wonderful reprieve from the anxiety plaguing her mind. She had to remind herself that she hadn't slept with the blond Adonis yet, and, while she was physically attracted to him, and vice versa, the chances of them engaging in sexual activities were very slim.

"What's the worst that could…" he arched a brow as he looked her over, noting the vivid blush on her cheeks, the way her body was tensed. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he noted the way her legs were tightly shut. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

Oh, he knew that she was more than okay. He knew that she was flushed and tight, most likely aroused and ready and he knew that no woman could resist the temptation that was Draco Malfoy.

But, while so many women in the past had yearned for him, none of them had ever made him feel so…needed, so arousing, and so unbelievably happy.

Hermione Granger wanted Draco Malfoy and it made him want to scream and laugh with joy. Hell, at the very beginning, he had wondered if the passion behind the kiss had just been from her being so sexually repressed all of the time. He wondered if she just wanted a relationship because of their intellectual conversations and discussions that she could never have with anyone else.

When he had told her to give in to inhibition, to at least try one date with him, he had been curious as to whether or not she had actually listened to him or was just placating and amusing him.

Now he knew…he saw and knew that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Fuck, the thought made him horny as hell.

When the blush on her cheeks darkened, when her legs tightened even more at his words, it took all of his resolve not to push her back on the couch and have his way with her.

She was a virgin, he had to remind himself. Not only that but she was Hermione Granger, a girl with more than her fair share of modesty. He would have to work very hard for a very long time before even being allowed to touch her breasts.

For now, however, he could amuse himself by arousing her with subtle moves and touches. At least until she either let him touch her or his control completely snapped.

"I'm…I'm fine," she stammered, swallowing thickly as her arousal only augmented under the feel of his knowing look. "So…so…you'll learn about ovens and microwaves and I will learn about cinematography. Do we have a time limit?"

Back to the clinical, intellectual Hermione…the one who could put her arousal on the back burner until she could find time to deal with it. Hell, she was contemplating just going to the bathroom and touching herself until she came all over her hand. If it weren't for the look he had given her, she would have done so. But she knew that he knew and it further complicated things.

"We have until the end of the school year," he replied, slowly placing a piece of popcorn into his mouth, darting out his tongue to wrap around the popped kernel and tuck it between his lips.

Draco Malfoy was an expert at seduction.

Hermione Granger stood no chance.

Her cheeks were growing closer to the hue of a ripe strawberry and he bit back a chuckle.

"So, what film are we going to watch?"

"Oh…one of my favourites," she replied, grateful for the distraction. "It's called A Muppet Christmas Carol."

All plans of seduction were forgotten in an instant. "What the fuck is a 'Muppet'?"

She grinned. "I keep forgetting that you don't know everything about Muggles and Muggle life."

"Don't laugh at me, just explain before we start the movie," he replied, sending a glare her way when she bit back a few chortles.

"Muppets are essentially puppets. Their creator, Jim Henson, apparently named them after combining puppet and marionette, although other sources say otherwise. They're creatures carved out foam and covered in a variety of materials, like cloth, fur, et cetera. People use wires or carve holes into the bottom of the puppet to maneuver them. You can make them talk, move, dance, and pretty much anything you want," she explained; glad to have randomly done some research a few years back on the Muppets.

Hermione Granger had a tendency to grow rather bored and do research on some of the oddest topics.

"So…these Muppets are what, exactly?" he said, taking in her every word.

"Well, for example, the more famous ones are Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy, Gonzo, and Fozzie Bear, although I love Swedish Chef and Beaker." She then began the long process of explaining how the Muppets were composed of anything, ranging from mythical creatures to every day ordinary animals and humans.

Once she assumed that Draco had heard more than enough to not ask too many questions while watching the movie, she reached forward and pressed the play button, sitting back to enjoy the first couple of hours of their 'date.'

"How the fuck can a frog play a human?" He asked as the introduction began.

Oh boy…this was going to be one long movie…

**

They were halfway through their dinner, which Hermione 'summoned' from the fridge, and about three-quarters through their third film, when a strange sniffling sound caught Draco's attention.

One glance at Hermione was all it took…

"Dear Gods, woman, are you _crying?_"

A loud sniffle and a quick swipe at her eyes gave him his answer. "No…no, I'm not but…how can she just _do_ that? She loves the man so much, but she just gives it all up because she loves her brother, too. How can she be forced to choose between the two of them?" she exclaimed, referring to the situation between Sarah and Karl, two characters in the film _Love Actually_.

Rolling his eyes and biting back a snort, Draco glanced over to her. "You know, for someone so brilliant, you sure do sound foolish from time to time."

She glared in his direction, sniffling another time before swallowing back the tears. "That's because I have a heart."

Sighing heavily, ignoring the insult that seemed to keep coming back to bite him in the arse, he placed his plate on the coffee table, did the same to hers, and tugged on her shoulders.

She suddenly found her face pressed against his chest, breathing in his masculine scent as his heart thundered in her ear.

"What…what are you doing?" she exclaimed, cheeks bright with blush.

She felt his hand trace her back, running soothingly up and down her spine, warming her flesh and heart. "You're so foolish, Hermione," he murmured, lowering his head to place a kiss on her hair. "So silly."

Eyes wide, it took her a second to realize that he was actually comforting her. Suddenly, her features softened and her lips curled into the faintest of smiles. Looking up at him through her lashes, she closed her eyes and snuggled into his chest.

Never before in her life had she felt more appreciated, secure, and loved.

Dinner was forgotten, cooling down on the plates as the menu of the film played over and over again. They were oblivious to everything, ignoring the world around them as he held her tightly. They slept like that, his arms around her, the blanket half covering them, half-lying on the couch.

For the first time in a long time, neither dreamed; for the reality was far better than any dream could ever be.

**

**Okay…I owe some major apologies.**

**I'm very sorry about taking for long to update. For about a month, I didn't use my old laptop because it was a douche and I was waiting for my new one. Once I got my new one (Dell Inspiron 15, 4G), I had to spend two days installing stuff, including Microsoft Office, World of Warcraft, iTunes, et cetera, and transferring all files and data over from my other computer.**

**Then, stupid me, the first thing I did was go on WoW (I hadn't been on since, like, October/November). IT RUNS SMOOTHLY NOW!!! Anyway, yes, so I spent my first two weeks with my laptop playing WoW and leveling (almost 70) and raiding (Temple of Ahn'Qiraj baby!!). Then, I spent quite a bit of time watching Elfen Lied episodes instead of writing. **

**To say the least, I haven't written in a while. Mainly due to distractions, work, getting sick, and spending time with my fiancé. I've had time to write, I just haven't because I'm a douche.**

**So, I've told myself: no more WoW and no more Elfen Lied (I'm on episode 11) until this fic is done.**

**Oh, and I've also getting working on establishing character information and such for a new story, which will be called ****Leave Out All The Rest****. It will be a romantic tragedy, a Dramione with a sad twist.**

**Anyway, none of my excuses make up for my lack of updating and I swear I will try my hardest to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. **

**Thanks for your patience, I probably don't deserve it after making you all wait so long.**

**Review overview:**

**Love/adoration – always loved. **

**Flames – will be used to increase the arousal between Hermione and Draco. **

**Critical criticism/editing – very much appreciated. **

**Again, I'm sorry for the over-a-month-long-wait. I'll try harder guys. **

**P.S. I got into University, although not the program I was aiming for. I'm in Joint Specialization English and History (after a year and obtaining 24 credits I can switch to Psych). I am proud of myself. ^.^**

**P.P.S. For any fans of DBZ/DBGT I'm considering writing a Trunks/OC fic. One of the last Saiyajins, Goku's niece, has come to Earth to find her family and start a new life. But something follows her that is bent on destroying the entire Saiyajin race for good. **

**I don't do Trunks/Pan because Pan is a good thirteen years younger than him. It's just creepy. I mean, seriously, in the DBGT Saga, he's 23 and she's want, about 10? 11 at the most? (She can't be older because I don't see Akira Toriyama making Gohan had a kid when he was younger than 20.)**

**I'll stop….**

**REVIEW!**


	18. Temporary Loss of Control

**Warning: not much happy, bunny-puppy-rainbow-Unicorn fluff in the first part of this chapter. I guess Elfen Lied has really been getting to me. I wrote this whole beginning scene listening to Lilium, the intro song to Elfen Lied.**

**Second warning: a small splash of citrus will be found in this chapter (i.e. a touch of limey-smut). I don't know how I managed to do it, but I somehow found the chapter moving in that direction. Weird, eh? You intend to do one thing and wind up doing something completely different.**

**Chapter 17**

**Temporary Loss of Control**

The room was silent. Everything was unnaturally quiet and still, as though every living thing had left the area, avoiding this place, avoiding adding any ounce of life in the room. It was eerily still. There was no wind, no air, nothing to signify any sign of life inside or outside of the room.

There was nothing…

He stood in the room, a place that looked strangely familiar yet new. He knew that he had been here before, or a place very similar to it, but he just couldn't pinpoint when and where.

The couches were in their places, the walls lined with books, and the hearth glowed. Yet…the flames seemed to have been stopped mid-movement, not a crackling sound, no rhythmic, hypnotic move of the flames. It was as though they had been frozen to the spot.

He looked around, hearing only the loud thundering of his heart in his chest, shivering in the still, cold air. The fire gave no heat; the fridge gave no hum…

Everything was still, frozen, as though time had come to a halt.

His throat sealed shut, mouth drying as he began to gasp for air.

Something…something bad happened here…

He eyed the staircase, gazing into the shadows that bathed it, and felt dread slowly begin to consume him. A morbid fascination held him rooted to the spot, contemplated over whether he would take a step forward or turn and run.

He didn't know what to do…he wanted to move ahead but at the same time, it took all of his willpower not to flee. What…what happened here?

A shadow flickered above, shifting along the staircase, and his heart leapt wildly against his ribs. Every breath he took was a shuddering gasp, painful rippling through his body as he pushed back every ounce of fear that threatened to consume him.

He took an involuntary step back as feet began to tread down the stairs.

He saw their legs, saw the pyjamas that were just too short, and recognition began to flow through him.

The sleeves were too short, reaching the person's forearms, and their hands were clenched in tight fists, either to hold back from hitting something or to keep something tightly in their grasp.

His heart raced, panic rushing through his body as blood roared in his ears. Something told him, whispered to him in the silence, that he knew who was coming and what had happened.

The young man's freckled face created no shock. There was no confusion, no bafflement; the sight of the man created only unwavering terror and a gruesome curiosity that kept him rooted to the spot.

'_Ron…'_

He thought to speak the words but discovered that his vocal chords had all but ceased to function. He tried opening his mouth to croak out the words, but it was sealed shut. He was as silent as the room.

The man stopped at the landing, fists clenched, and the faintest sound began to pummel his ears.

_Drip, drip, drip._

What was that? Was sound dared interfere with the unholy silence of this room?

"Harry…" Ron's voice was peculiar….he didn't sound like himself. He sounded detached and hollow, as though he was a complete separate entity from his body.

"Harry," he repeated, dark, empty eyes lifting to look at the brunet, "I did it. They deserved it, so I did it."

'_Did what? What did you do? To who?'_

Horror and shock sent tremors through his body; violent, uncontrollable spasms that shook him to the core.

"She left me….left me for _him_…so they deserved it."

_Drip, drip, drip._

What was that noise?

"I…I killed them, Harry, and I can't let you tell anyone."

Ron's hands opened and a violent wave of blood burst forth, a massive tidal wave that soaked everything and began to fill up the room.

Harry couldn't move…it was up to his chin…he couldn't do anything…

It was in his mouth, filling his nose, the thick, coppery taste of blood flooding his body as he struggled to breathe and survive.

'_Help_,' he tried to moan, to scream, to cry…

He was choking on it, swallowing it, drowning in the blood…he couldn't….he had to…

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry jerked into an upright position, panting loudly for air as his eyes darted about the room, searching for the faintest remains of his nightmare.

Nightmare…it was just a nightmare.

He felt Ginny wrap her arms around him and basked in the comfort of her embrace. If only she had been there every other nightmare.

"Are you okay, Harry?"

He glanced towards her, saw the concern in her eyes, and the unspoken question that was nothing but a sharp reminder of their past. "Don't worry…_he_ won't be back. Ever. It was…it was just a nightmare."

He hated lying to her, hated not being able to tell her truth. But he knew that it would worry her; she would grow tense and impatient, become as much of a worrywart as her mother, and she would not leave him alone.

"It was a pretty bad one," she replied, rubbing against his sweat-soaked back for emphasis.

"I think George probably snuck something into my drink last night. I had heard that he was trying these new aphrodisiac pills and I suppose he wanted me as a test subject." He managed a grin. "I'll have to tell him that they do the opposite."

He watched Ginny's eyes pry and search, trying to find some flaw in his lie and point it out to him. It was an easy enough lie to prove true, however, since George had been considering aphrodisiac pills, more to pull pranks on people in public situations.

"_Imagine, the Minister gets up for a meeting and he has a huge stiffy. Wouldn't that be brilliant?"_

Hopefully the act of Ginny tracking down George and berating him for sneaking Harry the pill would last long enough for Harry to sneak out of the Burrow, find Hermione, and ask her if what she was doing was really worth dying over.

* * *

She just couldn't get herself to move. One part was the excuse that she felt too groggy to be able to get up without falling over, and the second part was pure selfishness in that she felt too comfortable to move.

She still couldn't believe that they had fallen asleep like that, wrapped around one another as the tears dried on her face and his laughter faded into heavy, relaxed breathing. A part of her still couldn't believe how secure and warm his embrace was, how much she enjoyed the tickle of his breath on her throat , the way his hand was protectively pressed against her hip.

Somehow, at some point in time during the night, one of them – most likely her – had woken up and shut off the laptop. But that was the most movement either of them had made throughout the night. She had woken up with her face against his chest, inhaling his scent as he held her close.

She wondered, briefly, what someone would think if they had walked in on them.

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy: Asleep and In Love?

That's probably what the journal title would be the next day, followed by a massive picture of the two of them sleeping.

It took her a while, a total of five minutes, before she dared open her eyes and look at the man holding her. Through her lashes, she saw his relaxed face, lips slightly parted with each breath, eyes shut, dark lashes just barely long enough to touch his cheeks.

Without any thought, any consideration towards him, she reached up and gently traced the outline of his lips.

He was so beautiful. Of course, she could never say that exact word to him, lest his ego be wounded and his pride be notched; she would have to call him sexy or hot. Maybe handsome would do…

Sighing softly, she smiled up at him and unconsciously snuggled closer to his body. She could lie here all day, without any worries or anxieties. She could spend all day in his arms…

Eyes shuttering, she wondered dimly if this was because they were meant for each other or if he just felt good; he was the first man to ever wrap his arms around her and hold her as she slept. Not even Harry had dared console her in this way when Ron had left them when they were seventeen.

Nobody had ever held her in this way before and it made her feel – for lack of a better word – special. She felt loved and knew that she didn't have to do anything in return for it.

Burrowing her head against his side, she let out a sigh of contentment.

The sound of a throat clearing caused her head to lift and eyes to meet half-opened, groggy, silver ones.

"Morning," she said softly, smiling against his chest.

Under normal circumstances, she would be terrified that he regretted ever even touching her, even though they had done nothing remotely sexual. She would put up her wall and be ready to fight back with tooth and nail for her modesty and pride. But the look in his eyes, the tender, smooth flow of the silver that glimmered in the faint morning light, it pushed through her walls with ease and caressed her heart to the point that warm contentment filled her body.

He didn't regret a thing…

He reached up and ran a hand through her unruly curls, grimacing slightly as his fingers got caught in a particularly difficult knot. Grinning as she winced, he pulled his hand out and kept his hand firmly but gently pressed on her head.

"Good morning," he replied quietly. "Did you sleep well?"

Oh Gods, he was so thoughtful, she sighed inwardly. Although she had already fallen hard for him, she felt herself falling all over again, head over heels, to landing a heaping pile of infatuation and love.

Goodness, she sounded like such a sap…but it was worth it. She wanted to feel this good for the rest of her life.

"I did, thank you. And you?" she asked, wishing that she could always feel this comfortable and secure.

"Pretty well," he replied with a shrug, sniffling slightly. He suddenly grimaced and brought a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. "My head hurts."

Lifting a hand, she managed to ruffle his hair without changing their position. "You're congested; it puts a lot of pressure on your sinuses and causes headaches. Don't worry; Madame Pomfrey should have the potion done by the end of the day; I'll go get it at around five."

"You're not making me go and get it?" he asked, his tone of voice clearly indicating astonishment.

She grinned up at him, resisting the sudden urge to pinch his side; he's probably only complain and exaggerate the pain caused by the pinch. "It's more for me than for you, in end. Once you take it, you will stop all of that whining I had to endure yesterday."

He fought of the impulse to stick his tongue out at her and decided to pout instead. "Malfoys do not whine."

When, however, she met his sentence word for word, each syllable laced with annoyance and sarcasm, the blond's pout turned into an irked grimace, which only deepened when she added, "You said that a good hundred dozen times yesterday, right after you whined about how 'Malfoys don't get colds.' Honestly, it gets a little tiring and repetitive."

He tugged lightly on her hair. "And you're know-it-all attitude doesn't get annoying?"

She shifted suddenly, sitting back. However, as she moved with the intent to sit up and gain the upper hand on their argument, she slipped and her elbow met a particularly soft region of Draco's body.

Draco loudly hissed out a rather crude expletive and instantly hunched over, one hand reaching down to press against the spot Hermione had just brutally pushed down on.

"Draco," she gasped, reaching out to grab him, "are you okay? What's the matter?"

He swiped at her hands, pushing her away; wanting absolutely no contact with her while he fought back the waves of pain radiating from his groin. "Don't….touch…." he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, what did I do? Are you…I'm sorry….I…." she stammered, coming to a sudden halt when she realized just what she had done. Her face flooded with crimson and her hands found themselves moving and waving about on their own accord. "Oh my…I didn't even realize…Oh…oh dear…I actually…_touched_ it?"

"You _crushed_ it!" he growled, relieved when the pain finally began to ease up. It didn't help that she was so near to him, so adorable with her unruly hair and flushed face, full lips parted and moving, forming several 'O's.

He wanted to kiss her so badly, but the single thought of it caused his balls to tighten, which resulted in more pain.

"Fuck," he gasped, putting a touch more pressure on him, trying his hardest to ease the pain as fast as possible.

"Do you need anything? Ice? Painkillers? A hot pad? Anything that might help alleviate the pain?" she asked, sincere concern filling her voice as her eyes softened with regret for her actions.

"No…no….I'm fine," he managed to say without sounding angry or in agony. "Just give me another second or two and I'll be okay."

"Are you…putting pressure on it?" she asked, eyes darting just slightly down to look at his clenched fist.

"Yes," he replied. "It helps a bit."

"Do you want me to put pressure on it?" she blurted without a second's thought.

'_Oh Gods, that would be wonderful…her hands wrapped around my cock…teasing my balls…Fuck! Why is it that everything someone hits me in the balls, there is someone around that turns me on?'_

"No!" he cried. "No…it's not that I don't want you to…you know…touch me down there…" he added at the look of dismay on her face. "But I just…it's…you're not thinking straight and I would…It's just a bad idea, okay? A very bad idea if you plan on keeping your virginity intact for a while longer."

"I…I don't…Oh…OH!" she gasped, face burning as she realized just what she had said. She couldn't believe that she had offered to do such a thing! What in the world had she been thinking? Had she been half asleep at that time? Had she been too flabbergasted at the idea of a single body part of hers touching his crotch, that she hadn't thought over her words before saying them?

At least…at least he was still a gentleman. He hadn't taken advantage of her sudden naivety, hadn't used it as an excuse to feel her up; he had been honest and had refused her blindly made offer.

Her heart did a little flip; she was definitely falling deeper in love with him with every passing second. The way he had stammered his words, the way his cheeks had coloured with embarrassment and arousal, the way she watched his chest expand as his breath suddenly hitched…it heated her body and made her heart soar.

Hermione Granger was in love with Draco Malfoy and everything the blond did only made her love him more.

She was most definitely screwed.

"Can…can I do anything to help?" she had to ask; she felt simply horrible that she had caused him such pain.

"It'd be nice if you went away for a bit."

Her face flushed with fury at his words, mouth opening wide with shock and annoyance while her hands clenched into tight fists.

How dare he? She had been offering to help him in any way she could, all the while embarrassing herself in the process, and all he could do was tell her to go away? Well…

"Oh….I never!" she snapped. "You bloody prat! Here I am, offering to help you, making a bloody fool out of myself in the process, and all you can do is just tell me to go away!? And, you say it in that bloody dismissing tone of voice, treating me like some…some…House Elf! You prick! Well, you know what, next time you're in pain, don't expect Hermione Granger to come running along to help you out." She stood up, eyes flashing with wrath, mouth curled into a scowl of rage. "You can go…"

"Hermione," Draco quickly interjected, "it's not what it sounds like. I didn't mean to make it sound like that at all; in fact, I would rather say the complete opposite."

Crossing her arms firmly under her breasts, she glared down at him. "Oh really? Please, do explain before I slap you."

"Hermione!" he cried, oblivious to the fact that the pain was now completely fading away from his groin. "I would rather have you right here beside me if I could, but I can't possibly have you near me when…well, I've been hit in the crotch."

"And why is that? Does my being near you make it hurt even more?"

"Yes!"

Her body began to shake with embarrassment and rage, fists thrown down to her sides as she fought back every wave of fury that threatened to overwhelm her. That…that heartless bastard. She gave him so much, showed him so much, and all he did was repay her kindness and love with cruel words. How dare he?

"How dare you!" she shouted, raising her hand with the intent of slapping him smartly on the cheek. "You…you git! What in the world have I ever done to you? All I did was offer to help you and you have the gall to say that I would only cause you _more_ pain! You son of a…"

"It's because you turn me on!" he shouted, unable to take her words any longer. Lunging to his feet, all thoughts about his headache and recently injured male pride gone. His complete focus was directed on the furious brunette standing in front of him. "It's because every time I'm around you, every time you just get close enough for me to see you, I get aroused. You turn me on, Hermione; you fucking arouse me to the point that I can't think straight. Your smell, your touch, your voice, everything about you turns me on. And…and it just gets worse if I get hit in the balls! I mean, well…when I get aroused, they…well, everything tightens, and it causes me more pain if I had just been hit down there. But that's…that's got nothing to do with this anymore." He reached forward, grasping her wrists, pulling her so that her head was pressed almost completely under his chin. "Hermione Granger, you arouse me like no other woman has. You make me lose control."

The wave of shock that rippled through her body shook her to her very core. His words held no hint, not one suggestion, that he was lying to her, and his body language clearly agreed with every spoken syllable. Yet, she still couldn't believe that Draco Malfoy had just admitted to her that she turned him on. She, Hermione Granger, was the only woman to every make Draco Malfoy almost lose control with lust and need.

The thought of him growing hard, his whole body tightening with arousal, every time she was around him, was more than enough to make her womb clench and liquid heat to drip between her thighs. Her body began to burn with a fever so hot that she feared she might not be able to stay clothed for much longer.

She hadn't expected such a physical reaction on her part, let alone his shocking revelation, and she was most definitely not prepared for the way her senses caught fire with arousal at his confession. She wanted to touch him, to be skin on skin with him, to let him touch her until she screamed and burned with arousal.

She should have been shocked, perhaps even infuriated and disgusted; she should not have been aroused by this.

And yet, she was…she was very aroused.

He suddenly spun away from her, rubbing his face furiously with his hands as he cursed himself for admitting such a thing. She would certainly want nothing to do with him after this.

'_Draco, you bloody idiot, you just had to go ahead and ruin everything, didn't you?'_ he admonished himself, mentally beating himself senseless.

"Hermione," he began, nearly choking out the words. He felt little such an idiot; what in the world made him think that she would like hearing how she made him horny as hell? "I…I'm…"

"Draco," she said softly, her voice sounding strangely close; it was almost as though she were whispering the words into his ear.

"Look, Hermione," he quickly began, unable to take the tension any longer. He had to apologize for being a witless prat and then he would go down to see Madame Pomfrey himself around the damn potion. He would hide from her for the next few days, hide in the library, only come out of his room when she wasn't around…he wouldn't be able to face her and the disgust she would wear on her face.

"Hermione, I'm sorry…I didn't mean for any of that to come out." He chanced a glance in her direction and saw the warring emotions in her eyes. "I mean, well…I did mean the words, but I didn't really intend to say them to you…I mean, well…oh fucking hell. Hermione, I'm sorry for being such a prat," he concluded, adding a moan of frustration as he saw the confusion in her eyes.

'_Oh Gods, I'm such an idiot at times. Honestly, I'm supposed to have a way with women, not make a fool out of myself whenever I'm around them. But Hermione…she's different…she makes me feel different…But it's not excuse to act like such a prat,'_ he moaned inwardly.

He was shocked when he felt her smaller hands wrap around his wrists, and it only increased when she lowered his hands from his face – they had made their way up there once more after he had looked at her. Gently, she cupped his cheek with one hand, sliding the other around to the back of his head, twining her fingers around his silken locks.

"Draco…I have to admit," she murmured, tugging his head down until nary a breath stood between their lips, "and I've never admitted this to anyone before…I think you…you arouse me, too."

He barely had time to register the shock when her lips pressed against his. Then, his senses went wild. Her taste was divine, her lips so unbelievably soft, moving and gliding under his, sliding against his mouth with mounting fervor. He groaned against her lips, wrapping his arms tightly around her body, hugging her to him as he opened his mouth with the intent of devouring her.

As his tongue snaked past her lips, moving in to dance with hers in a timeless mating ritual, his hands slid in opposite directions; one tangling itself in her hair while the other dared to rest upon her buttocks, pressing her hips harder against his.

It was when a little moan escaped her mouth that one chain of control snapped. Growling against her lips, he kissed her like a man starved, yanking her harder against him, needing to feel every little part of her pressed against his body. He tugged on her hair, pulling her towards him as he angled and stepped back to sit on the couch.

Without breaking their kiss, she clambered on top of him, straddling her waist, positioning herself in a way she had never done before in her entire life. Under normal circumstances within a normal relationship, she would be worried beyond belief as to what may happen at the end of this scenario. However, at this moment in time, all she could think about was having his skin pressed against hers.

It was her hands that dared touch flesh first, hers that slid up his shirt to tease his abs, finding every crease, every little line to be just as arousing as the last and the next. She raked her nails up his torso until her hands lifted his shirt and her fingers dug into his bare shoulders.

He tore his lips from hers with a snarl, yanking on her hair until the smooth, creamy line of her throat was exposed to his lips. He devoured her neck, biting and licking, suckling and torturously teasing the flesh until she cried out from pleasure. He latched onto a sweet spot just by her jugular, tracing circles with his tongue as he sucked on her skin.

Her hips bucked wildly against his, shockwaves of desire rippling through her as, through the cotton material of her pajama bottoms, she felt his burning arousal press against her aching core.

"Oh…Draco," she moaned, moving one hand to bury itself in his hair, pressing his mouth harder against her throat.

"Move your hips again," he growled, licking his way up to tease her lobe between his teeth. Her hips undulated a second time, the length of his arousal sliding along her center, and he swore he could feel her wetness through the material of his pants and boxers. "Yes…yes…like that," he groaned, suckling on her lobe.

She gasped loudly, whimpering his name as she tried, in vain, to tear off his shirt. She had to feel his hot flesh, needed to feel every ounce of him pressed against hers, naked body against naked body, flesh on flesh, until her body exploded from the burning arousal.

"Shirt," she panted, tugging on his shirt for emphasis. "Off…now."

"You don't waste time, do you?" he whispered, latching onto the sweet spot behind her ear, earning a cry of pleasure in return.

"Please," she moaned, pressing her body against his, breasts plastered against his chest.

"Fine," he growled, taking only a second to break away from the kiss and yank of the shirt before crushing his lips against hers.

She moaned in triumph against his mouth, raking her nails all over his skin, touching every ounce of flesh she could now that the obstacle was out of the way. She had to feel every bit of him, needing to feel his flesh pressed against hers as she screamed his name in passion.

Before she even knew or realized what was going on, her shirt found its way to the floor and her lips found themselves latched onto his throat. He snarled out an incomprehensible expletive and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her down upon his arousal as she found every little hot spot along his neck.

She bit her way along his jaw, finding the small amount of stubble there to be the most arousing thing in the world. She slid her tongue down the front of his throat, teasing his Adam's apple until he groaned with desire, hands convulsing on her hips. She bit and teased his throat the same way he had done to hers, unable to get enough of the taste of his skin.

Salty and sweet, she was dimly aware of her mind comparing him to a chocolate covered pretzel before she latched onto the flesh between his throat and collarbone.

He let out a shout of shock and arousal; no woman had ever bit him in such a place and it was the most exquisite pleasure he had ever felt in his life. Her lips suckling on his flesh, roughly bruising him as she dragged her fingers and nails down his chest; it was the most pleasurable thing he had ever experienced.

He could feel her breasts straining against the bra, while small, they were managed to be full and perky at the same time, the creamy flesh just barely touching his skin with every movement.

He groaned as he felt her nipples pressing through the cotton material, rubbing against his chest as her hips undulated against his.

"Fuck…Hermione," he groaned, sliding a hand along her spine, reveling in the feel of her body convulsing as it became covered with gooseflesh. She moaned out his name against his throat, shuddering violently in his arms as he traced his fingers along her back.

He reached the clasp of her bra and undid it with a quick movement; it was a simple enough clasp and he had been tortured with worst forms of blockades or clasps before.

She let out a gasp of surprise, eyes widening with shock as he slid the straps down her shoulders, leaving only the cups hanging on her breasts. Instead of removing them, he traced his fingers over the exposed skin, running his hands along the cotton cups, massaging her through the bra. He firmly pressed the heel of his palm against the center of each breast, rubbing roughly, causing her nipples to tighten and a moan to escape her lips.

"Oh my," she whimpered as bolts of electricity rushed down her body to pool at her core. Never before had she felt so hot, so needed, so aroused. Her body was on fire, burning from the inside out, and the feel of his hands on her breasts only fueled the flame. She writhed under his touch, unable to get enough of it, needing more with every passing second.

She was the one who threw off the bra, it was her hands that guided his to her breasts, wrapping his fingers around her sensitive mounds as she rocked against his hips.

He groaned out her name in response, tightening his grip on her flesh, rubbing and kneading the mounds until she cried out. He tugged on her nipples, pinching and playing with them until she couldn't stand it any longer.

Her hips bucked wildly against his, fighting to find some sense of relief from the swamping, all-consuming need that coursed through her. She felt his hard length through their pajama bottoms, felt her slick pussy sliding up and down it as she sought release. She needed to find the right angle…she…

She nearly screamed when his mouth closed around her pert nipple, tongue and teeth moving in such a way that made her entire body clench violently. Her hips slammed down against his, an incredibly arousing sensation rocking her body as his arousal met one particularly sensitive spot on her body.

"Draco…oh Draco," she cried, twining her fingers in his hair, pressing his mouth harder against her breasts, needing to feel the warm wetness of his mouth on her nipples, to feel the roughness of his teeth as they pinched them. "Don't…don't stop…"

He suckled on her breasts like a starved man; he teased and suckled them until she finally screamed out his name, hips moving viciously against his.

"That's it," he growled savagely, "grind your fucking hips, moving your pussy on my cock."

The words, which would normally disgust and turn her off, increased her arousal to the point that her movements became erratic and wild. She slammed her hips down, rubbing furiously against him, feeling her body heat up, heart hammering wildly as her womb began to clench tightly.

"Oh…Oh…_Oh_," she cried with shock as waves rippled through her body, her womb clenching and unclenching rhythmically, liquid gushing from between her thighs as her body shuddered with pleasure. The release washed over and consumed her, blinding her until all she felt and knew was pleasure.

Suddenly, she found herself panting in his arms, gasping loudly for air as her held her against his sweat-slicked torso. She could hear him, just barely able to discern the sound coming from his lips.

He was chuckling softly, pressing gentle kisses to her cheeks and brow, running his fingers up and down her back in the most erotic way imaginable.

"What…what are you laughing at?" she gasped, unable to bring herself to open her eyes; she almost feared what she might see. The arousal was already fading away into pure shock, directed mostly towards herself and her actions.

"I'll say…I've never made a woman come by just playing with her breasts," he replied, the sentence ending on another chuckle as she blushed darkly in his arms. He knew that if her eyes were open, he would see regret and guilt, self-disappointment and shame glowing in the amber orbs. "It's not bad at all, Hermione. I'll admit; it's quite the turn on."

This time, her eyes opened to meet his. Burning amber met smoldering silver in a fiery gaze that was only broken with regret and embarrassment.

"I…I'm sorry…I think this might have been a mistake," she said softly, unable to look down at their forms, twined intimately around one another.

He arched a brow in question, reaching up to push a stray curl from her cheek. "Why?"

"Well…I….first off, you might get the wrong impression," she stammered. "I'm not like this…I don't just…throw myself into a man's arms and…well…I was overwhelmed…I just couldn't fight it and…Oh, I feel so embarrassed," she cried, burying her face in her hands. "You must think that I'm just some slag looking for a way to get off."

Draco frowned at her, reaching forward to gently pull her hands away from her face. He noticed that she shifted her arms, trying her hardest to cover her breasts while he still held her wrists.

"Hermione, you're not a slag," Draco snapped, eyes flashing with anger. "Don't you ever dare call yourself that ever again or I'm afraid I won't be able to control my actions."

"But…but I do!" she cried, eyes shining with the threat of tears, both from guilt and shame at her actions, as well as joy caused by Draco's response. "I've never done anything like this and…well…I barely know you and here I am, shirt off, doing all of…of…_this!_ I feel so dirty," she moaned, tossing her hands back up to cover her face once more.

Instead of reaching to uncover her face, Draco let his hands run gently along her hair, trying any action that might seem to be soothing for the brunette. He wasn't entirely sure what had exactly brought on these sudden feelings for Hermione, but he did understand that she held a sense of modesty that no woman in these days held. He understood that what they had done, even though it was far from an actual sexual experience, was something new and forbidden, something that made her feel dirty and foul.

In her mind, she was no longer modest but along the same levels as the girls her age who fucked for pleasure and nothing more.

"I know that this experience may be…shocking for you. But, you have to know that what you have done is something truly remarkable," he murmured, playing with her curls. He felt her body tense in reaction, knew what words waited to be spoken from her lips, and he continued before she had a chance to even consider the wording for her sentence. "For the first time in your life, you truly let go of everything and allowed your instincts to take over. You always think logically, always try to find an intelligent solution to everything, but sometimes the answer isn't logical. It isn't always intelligent, and no amount of reading or research will be able to tell you that. You have to sometimes follow your instincts and let human nature take over. That…that is what you have done." He tugged her hands down to press soft kisses on her eyelids. "You're not a whore, Hermione; you're a brilliant witch who thinks a little too much sometimes."

Her eyes slowly reopened, glittering with unshed tears, lips trembling just slightly against the tips of her fingers. She understood what he said, knew what he meant in reference to human nature and instinct, and yet, she still couldn't help but feeling extremely exposed and disgusting.

She found herself nodding to his words as she groped for her shirt, tugging it quickly over her head as her mind was torn in half, one part telling her that he was right, the other reminding her of how promiscuous she had just been. She felt so dirty.

"I…I suppose that you're right," she admitted quietly, lowering her eyes to look at his bellybutton; she couldn't dare look at her silver gaze right now; it would be the end of her. "You make some sense, I suppose, but I…I like to think. Following your instincts isn't always the logical, proper solution to everything. I don't like letting something control and force me to do something that I wouldn't normally do."

His eyes hardened, steel flashing in the light as his body tensed. "Did it really feel forced? Was your whole body tense and unwilling, or did you actually, willingly, enjoy it? Did you really have to force yourself to touch me?" She heard the spite in his voice, the pain that just threaded through the thick tone.

Was there more to Draco than his charismatic, chauvinistic attitude? Did he really get what he wanted all of the time?

Had she really been _forced_ to kiss him or had she done it of her own free will?

The answer to that was simple and complicated at the same time.

Exhaling softly, she lifted her eyes to focus her gaze on his. "I didn't force myself to do anything," she replied quietly. "I just don't care for the way my mind just shuts down when…" She cut off abruptly, afraid of what might have come out of her mouth if she had dared to finish the sentence.

"When what, Hermione?" he asked, the faint outline of a knowing grin just barely perceptible on his face. It was as though he knew exactly what thoughts were going through her mind, as though he already knew the answer just wanted her to say it anyways.

Suddenly, she leapt off of him, nearly hitting the coffee table in the process, moving to give enough distance between them so that he would not be able to reach out and grab her. She had almost blurted out one of the most intimate thoughts she had ever had. She couldn't let him know, wouldn't dare even whisper the truth of her thoughts to him. He could use it against her, blackmail, spread rumours, or he could take it and break her with it.

That was what most men did nowadays, she glumly reminded herself, thinking of Harry and Ron. They pretended to care, pretended to love, and only used her for themselves, as though she were some object to lie to and use.

Even though she considered what was between her and Draco to be almost sacred, their relationship growing more and more intimate by the day, the distrust and fear pulled her back. Besides, she reminded herself, she hadn't even had the chance to go over the various scenarios. She had to think before she spoke, had to look over all of the facts before she dared venture forward.

She had to know for sure…

"Hermione?"

Jerked from her reveries by the sound of her name, she glanced quickly in his direction. Her heart instantly panged with guilt; he sat on the couch, looking rather bewildered and out of place. His hair was an unnatural mess, chest glistening faintly with sweat as dark, red lines throbbed and glowed out of place against the pale skin. A flush coated her cheeks as she noted that they were _her_ claw marks, that she put the bruise on his neck, that she was the reason he had been so worked up mere moments ago.

The way his grey eyes watched her, openly yearned for her, the way they caressed over her body in a manner that was more than loving than sexual, nearly made her cave right there and then. But she couldn't; she refused to do anything until she knew everything.

Until she knew what the right choice would be…

"I…I'm going to get dressed. I won't be long," she hastily muttered, diverting her gaze as she moved quickly towards the stairs.

She just saw him watch her, noted the way his eyes paled and then darkened, hardening in the soft, morning's light. She knew he was feeling rejected, he felt hurt and untrustworthy; he had just opened his heart to her, admitting that her very scent, her very thought, aroused his senses to almost uncontrollable levels. And she ran away the second it came to her exposing her secrets.

Reaching her bedroom door, she quickly opened it, barely glancing in before turning to close it. She just barely registered the faint whooshing sound of the fire being suddenly brought to life.

Turning back around, she shut her eyes and leaned against the door, wishing that the process of falling for someone could be a lot easier on the mind and body.

A peculiar sound had her lifting her head and opening her eyes. Her sight fell on the tall figure standing in the middle of the room.

She did the first thing she could.

She screamed.

**My goodness, I took my time with this one, eh? **

**I'm sorry I took so long. I've been having troubles figuring how to continue it after the near-sex. I just couldn't get them saying the right things and rewrote it numerous times. I'm somewhat content with the way this chapter ended, and I will say that things are going to get stormy from here on. **

**I could list the various excuses I have for not writing (the main one being that, in my free time, my boyfriend and my guild have been constantly running my Warlock through Karazhan, SSC, TK, and a variety of other instances/raids. Ahn Q'iraj was fun, I'll admit.)**

**Anyways, also there have been a few personal things, and a lot of my days off are spent with my boyfriend (if we're able to get together), which means no writing. Also been working a LOT and have been completely exhausted when I come home.**

**Anyway, that's enough complaining and blah-blah-blah from me. Now, since I haven't given you a recipe in a while, here's one. Although not really Christmas-y, I think it's good enough to be used around Christmas time.**

**Almond Cherry Bars**

**Ingredients**

**1 cup butter, softened**

** 1 cup granulated sugar **

**1 egg**

**½ tsp almond extract**

** 2 cups all-purpose flour **

**1 tsp baking powder**

**¼ tsp salt**

** 2 cups chocolate chips**

**1 cup maraschino cherries, coarsely chopped **

**½ cup slivered almonds**

**Directions**

**In large bowl, cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy; beat in egg and almond extract. Combine flour, baking powder and salt; stir into creamed mixture just until blended. Stir in chocolate chips, cherries and almonds.**

**Spread evenly in 13 x 9 inch (3.5 L) ungreased cake pan. Bake in 350 degrees F (180 C) oven for about 30 minutes or until golden brown. Let cool completely in pan on rack before cutting into bars. Makes about 40 bars.**

**Note: I usually put the bars in for about 25 minutes and check periodically after that. I also suggested you use a convectional oven; it's makes them softer, as they tend to become dry rather easily.**

**Use this recipe wisely, people, it is very, very delicious.**

**Onto quick review overview:**

**Flames – meh, I use them to make it hotter in the Heads' Common Room, therefore forcing Hermione and Draco take off their clothes. Mmmmmm.**

**Critical criticism – much loved and appreciated. Like always, if you see any mistakes, please tell me in your review, and make sure that the mistake/correction is obvious, thank you.**

**Adoration – very, very, very much loved and will be awarded with another chapter. **

**Again, I'm sorry for the delay on this particular chapter. I would've had it done last night, but a rather pressing family matter came up and it just completely destroyed my writing mood. **

**Don't hate me too much!**

**See ya!**


	19. 15 Minutes

**Here we go, the next chapter in this series. I have to say, I suppose it was obvious who would be in the room and I must say that most of you guessed right. If you want to know the answer, just read on. **

**No prizes are being given to those who guessed right because I didn't offer any in the last chapter. But, well, I suppose having this chapter posted is good enough of a prize, right? Lol.**

**Random disclaimer because I haven't done one in a while: I don't own Harry Potter, not that I would want to own Potter anyway, I'd rather own Draco Malfoy. Damn Rowling for her owning of the Malfoy sexyness.**

**Therefore, I make no money writing this fic, for if I did, my editor/publisher would be having a shit-fit because of how long I'm taking to finish.**

**Oh, and I'd also get my ass sued, too, seeing as I am a peasant monetary wise compared to Rowling.**

**Btw, I must say that, halfway through to the end of the chapter, Linkin's Park song, New Divide, seemed to go well. I spent the beginning half listening to The Birthday Massacre. **

**I'm not sure why I just shared that information, but I felt like it. **

**READ! I COMMAND YOU!**

**Please…**

**Chapter 18**

**15 Minutes**

He sat back on the couch, breathing deeply in an attempt to gather his emotions and bearings, trying to come up with a reason for Hermione's strange antics. He knew that she was modest, a girl who prided herself in her virginity and chastity, unlike most who notched their bedpost every time they shagged a man. He knew that she had not had any _real_ male friends in her life; Harry and Ron did not completely count as comforting, kind friends. She had spent years comforting them, watching over them and ensuring that they were unharmed and safe.

He knew that they had rarely thought of her and the only times they showed true affection was when she was in serious trouble.

'_That was, what, a total of two times?_' he thought grimly. '_Maybe three.'_

He wondered if he was being too harsh, that his extreme dislike for the pair was blinding his senses and causing his interpretations to be biased. But, as he thought it over, head in hands, trying to use anything as an excuse to distract him from his raging erection, he knew that it was impossible for his 'facts' to be biased. He was an outsider and, although his feelings towards Weasel and Potter may influence his view on them, he knew the difference between actual compassion and the selfish use of a person.

They used her day and night, for school, for help with girls, for just about anything and everything one could think of. They used her and showed no compassion towards her in the past nine years.

It was no wonder she was wary when it came to their relationship; she had a right to be distrustful towards any male professing care and love for her. No one else had ever done that without wanting something in return.

Letting his head flop back to land on the cushioned back of the couch, he shut his eyes and squirmed uncomfortably; no matter how much he thought about Potty, Weasel, and the depressing reality that they abused Hermione, he just couldn't get his damn hard on to go away.

The memory of her riding him, the warmth, the velvet softness that was her flesh, the liquid heat caressing his cock, it all consumed him. He could smell her, the scent of her aroused body permeating the air, latching onto his mind and controlling his every sense. He just couldn't get enough of her deliciously feminine scent, a fruity odour mixed with the sweetness of chocolate and the subtle hint of lavender. A strange combination nonetheless, but one that made his body go on overdrive.

If he tried hard enough, he could feel her breath against his ear; hear her breathy whispers, her gasping replies as he touched her intimately for the first time.

He could feel the heat of her center through his pants; feel the liquid seeping through the cloth to slowly drip onto his hardened cock.

He didn't even realize he was gripping his cock until his palm ran along the underside, pressing against the sensitive flesh, causing his body to jerk involuntarily.

Draco wanted to feel embarrassed, he wanted to feel guilty for sitting on the couch, in the midst of rubbing one off while she was only a few feet away, separated by an easy-to-break door.

He imagined himself tearing that door down, shredding her clothes, and taking her hard and passionately against the nearest solid surface. He saw himself throwing her onto the bed, separating her thighs and tasting her nectar with relish.

'_How would you taste, Miss Granger? I bet you would be sweet, like chocolate covered strawberries, ripe and ready.'_

He groaned, sliding his hand harder along his length, already nearing his orgasm.

She was sensitive, he recalled, so amazingly sensitive that she had come within seconds of grinding against his cock. He could just imagine sliding his fingers into her tight hole, crooking them just the right away, and in milliseconds she would be screaming his name as she covered his hand in her juices.

Hermione Granger definitely looked like a squirter.

Biting his lower lip to stifle his groan, he tightened his grip; body tensing as he almost neared his orgasm.

Just…almost there…

Almost…

A scream tore through the air. His eyes flung open, hand quickly yanked out of his pants as he sat up, panting heavily.

Silver eyes darkened to steel, hardening as his body trembled uncontrollably. His heart flew into his throat, nearly choking him if it weren't for the years of practice. His stomach plummeted, landing neatly in his feet as he threw his body off the couch and into a standing position.

He knew that scream, knew exactly what it meant. It was not the high scream of passion, not the squeal of joy and surprise; it was a scream of shock and fear. It was a scream that numbed his senses, pulling everything away from his body but terror and a cold determination to get to whoever had made Hermione scream like that.

The distance to the stairs felt unbelievably long as he sprinted towards them, the staircase itself immeasurably high and he took it three steps at a time.

He had to get to her, had to protect her from whatever had caused her to scream like that. A variety of unlikely scenarios filled his head and, while he knew that they would never happen, they managed to nonetheless fill his mind with dread.

Images of Voldemort returning, pressing his wand against her throat, filled his mind, followed by visions of Fenrir Greyback, back to his former gargantuan, powerful self, slamming her against the wall, forcefully tearing away her clothing. Worst of all were the horrific images of his father standing before her, wand raised, face impassive and cold as he prepared to put her through the worst kind of torment.

His body clenched, adrenaline pumping, pushing him into a 'flight or fight' mode. For Hermione, he would fight anything and everything so long as it ensured her safety.

He had to keep pushing down the panic, trying to find various ways to calm his nerves and stop himself from doing something rash. He couldn't let himself break down; he had to clear his mind like he had done in the past, had to push away the thoughts of terror and death in order to ensure that he could rescue her.

But it was so hard to do that when protecting someone he cared about.

He had to get to her, had to reach her and hold her, to destroy the cause of her distress, to comfort her and keep her forever in the safety of his arms.

Almost…

The door was within sight, the seemingly endless staircase finally reaching a concrete ending.

He reached out for her door, just hearing her shout, "What the hell are you doing here?" before his hand wrapped around the knob.

* * *

Her eyes widened with shock, mouth agape, ready to shout for help, when, in a flurry of dark emerald robes, the figure was in front of her, hand pressed against her mouth to stifle her every sound.

Questioning amber eyes glared daggers at the man, body squirming against his grip as he fought in vain to keep her controlled and quiet. He couldn't let anyone know that he was here, couldn't risk the chance that her roommate might hear and come looking for answers.

Her teeth dug into his palm, earning a rather crude expletive from him as he lurched away, cradling his injured hand.

"Harry Potter, what the hell are you doing here?" she shouted, reaching out to give him a hard kick in the shins, stopping at the last second once she realized that her unprotected toes would stand no chance against his shins.

"Quiet down," he hissed, rubbing his hand, eyes flashing furiously as they kept darting from the door to her. "No one can know that I'm here, especially not Malfoy."

"No, I will not –"

"Hermione! Hermione Granger, open that bloody fucking door right this instant!" The locked door shook violently as an enraged and panicky Draco Malfoy stood on the other side, attempting to use brute force to open the door. It appeared that he had forgotten about his wand and the ability to, with a swish and snap, unlock doors.

Grinning, Hermione reached over to unlock the door, ready to unleash Draco and his fury onto the annoying green-eyed prat standing in front of her.

"Wait!" he whispered loudly, darting out a hand to grasp her wrist, stopping her mid-movement. "If…if you get him to go away, I'll tell you how and why I'm here, no lies."

Gnawing on her lip, she contemplated the consequences. While it would be entertaining to watch Draco and Harry mete it out, she was apprehensive that Draco's cold might dampen his magical ability. Furthermore, she could help but become fascinated and fixated on finding the solution to Harry's sudden appearance in her room.

He had Floo'ed here; that she knew from the smell of smoke and the whoosh she had heard earlier but had neglected to identify. But how he had managed to Floo in was beyond here; the restrictions on the castle had been fortified even more the in past few years, the Floo network restricting all access to within the school. One could no longer use an outside source to Floo in or out; they had to be on school grounds to do so.

Something, the way he wanted her to stay quiet, the demand that nobody find him, told her that he would most certainly have no Apparated to Hogsmeade and trudged over in the snow. Besides, he didn't look at all like he had been outside in the past few hours; his skin was rosy with warmth and he did not sniffle once.

She just had to find out…

Pushing Harry behind the door, without saying a word she opened it a crack, watching Harry seize with panic. The git thought that she was letting Draco in…

Sticking her head out, she nearly met Draco's fist as it moved to slam against the door. The blond managed to stop just in time, silver gaze meeting hers in a look that was filled with fear and panic.

"Hermione!" he cried, moving forward to grasp her. "Are you okay? What happened?" He looked over her face, searching for the obvious signs that she was under the Imperius Curse.

Smiling softly, trying her hardest to feign a blush of embarrassment, Hermione lowered her eyes just a bit, praying that she conveyed the right emotion. "Sorry, I forgot that I left my window open and an owl just went flying in. It scared the daylights out of me."

His lips curled with disbelief. "I could have sworn I heard you yelling at someone," he replied.

"It was Ron's owl," she lied. "I suppose I shouldn't have yelled at it but it was just reflex; I'm not used to having owls flying in my head in the morning."

"Can't I just come in and check, make sure everything's okay?" She saw his hands clench reflexively, saw the way his body stood still, muscles tense as he fought to push away all horrific thoughts from his mind.

The blush deepened as a sudden thought filled her mind, her mouth blurting out the words before her brain could react; "I'm naked."

The unadulterated, carnal lust that filled his eyes made her cheeks glow, a tingling, now familiar sensation beginning in her abdomen as he looked at her with pure arousal.

"Well," he said, his voice thicker with need. "I absolutely _must_ come in now."

Her heart fluttered wildly, wishing to hell that she had just heard a very arousing double entendre. The thought of Draco thrusting in her, growling loudly as he poured himself within her, made her body go wild. Her functional side of her brain nearly shut down, instinct ready to take over and throw her body into his arms.

But, a small sliver of logic remained functional and reminded her of how things would look if she yanked Draco into a passionate kiss. Harry was right beside her, listening to every word, most likely ready to tear Draco in two at this very moment.

Things were already uneasy enough between them; she wouldn't dare to anything to destroy their restoring friendship.

Even though Harry hadn't always been 'there' for her, the times he had had been just when she'd needed a friend. Unlike Ron, he had always offered an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on, even if the times were few.

In spite of everything, she still cared about Harry.

She didn't want to risk destroying everything for a kiss.

Not yet.

"I'm afraid that I must refuse your admittance," she said with a sigh. "I will, however, remind you that I am fine and in one piece, my own state of mind, and alone now that Pig has left."

She could tell that Draco wanted to demand who the fuck would name an owl Pig, but saw him fight the urge and shift, as though attempting to peer over her head into the room. Purposely, she lowered her head, knowing that he could not possibly see Harry from his position.

"I…I suppose…" he said softly after a moment of searching and scrutinizing. Her window _was_ ajar and a chair had fallen over, as though someone had stumbled over it when trying to avoid a flying object. "I, well, sorry for overreacting then, I suppose," he mumbled.

She couldn't help; she reached out with a hand and cupped his cheek, pulling him close for a peck on the lips.

"Thank you for caring," she murmured softly, praying that Harry couldn't hear her.

He almost reached out and cupped the back of head, almost slammed his lips against hers in a bruising kiss, but she abruptly pulled away and shut the door in his face. Swearing loudly, he swore he saw the flash of black in the crack of the door by the hinges.

Hermione magically locked the door and muttered a silencing spell before rounding on Harry, wand pointed in his direction.

"Why and how did you get here, and make it quick. I want you out of my room in the next five minutes," she snapped, furious with the brunet for making such an entrance. What gave him the right to just barge into her room like that? For all he knew, she could have been naked, changing or…engaged in _other_ activities.

Damn inconsiderate prat.

"I spoke with McGonagall and she gave me permission to use the Floo. Only I had access and I had to use it at a specific time. I have," he glanced down at his wristwatch, completely unfazed by Hermione's actions, "about 12 minutes left before I have to leave."

Her chest heaved with annoyance. "McGonagall gave you permission to just Floo into my room unannounced? What…what bloody right do you…?"

"I had to," Harry interjected, eyes wide and pleading. "I had no choice. Everything's going to shit, Hermione. _Everything_! Christmas is ruined and it's all because you decided to stay behind!"

"I ruined your Christmas?" she shouted, unable to push back the fury and pain that exploded in her chest at his accusatory words and looks. "Because I made a conscious, selfish decision for the first bloody time in my life, I've ruined _your_ Christmas? You…You…selfish…you bloody…"

Harry wanted to reach out, to massage her shoulders the way he used whenever she had been furious and stressed. He wanted to wipe away the pain that filled her eyes, but he had to do this. He had to stand strong and find out the truth behind her actions. He just had to calm his emotions before saying anything else.

'_Think before you speak,'_ he calmly reminded himself. But it was so difficult when he had heard the discussion with Hermione and Draco. He knew that she had stayed behind to be with the blond ferret.

Damn her…damn her for being like this…damn her for leaving them for the ferret.

"I…I suppose I worded it wrong," he said softly, sounding appropriately apologetic. "I just…it's so stressful this year." He threw his hands into the air as he began his tirade. "Your parents look so uncomfortable, even though they have hung out with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley several times. They keep asking why you stayed behind, why they didn't know; it just makes things so uncomfortable! Ginny's bitching constantly, Mrs. Weasley looks like she's about to pop several blood vessels and is snapping at everyone and everything. She almost hates you now, you know that, right?" His eyes flashed in her direction. "And Ron…he just sits in his room and sulks. Won't talk to anyone, almost always refuses to eat. The one time he came down was when your parents came and do you know what happened?" His voice was rising, nearly shouting now, as he stopped pacing to spin around and face her. "He broke down! He started babbling and crying and screaming. And your parents saw it! They saw and heard everything!"

Harry pinned her with an accusatory glare, body tightening with the urge to hit the nearest object. "They think you're shagging Draco Malfoy!"

A hand flew to her mouth as it opened in shock, body quaking violently as she feared the worst. They had found out about their relationship, everyone had found out and knew that she and Draco were gradually becoming more than friends.

It couldn't…it wasn't the right time…she didn't know Draco well enough, didn't have time to calm down Ron and find the proper explanation…

Oh Gods, they knew that she came from his touch!

"Ron loves you," Harry said suddenly, voice considerably softer than before. "He nearly screamed it. He loves you a lot, Hermione."

She had to stifle the gasp of surprise; she knew that Ron had had some form of sentiments for her, but never had she imagined that he loved her that much.

"He doesn't understand why you're staying behind. He wanted to spend this Christmas with you so badly; he had everything planned, down to the colour of wrapping paper he was using. He really wanted to make this Christmas special," he said softly. "You do realize that he was going to ask you be his girlfriend this Christmas, right?"

"I…Harry…" she choked on her words as guilt began to tear at her body. Her heart twisted with pain, she blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. "I…I can't…I don't…I didn't mean…"

"Didn't mean what, Hermione? To cause all of this pain and difficulty? You didn't mean to stay behind without a single word of explanation. He doesn't know what Draco has that he doesn't. He wants to know what makes Draco so much more special than him; why Draco can spend Christmas with you but he can't." Harry moved forward, cupping her face in his hands. "He doesn't know…and it's tearing him apart."

Swallowing thickly, she had to keep reminding herself that this wasn't her fault. She was a grown woman now; she didn't have to explain anything to anyone. It wasn't her fault that Ron was too late, that the redhead had taken too long to admit his feelings for her. It wasn't her fault that he had been mentally unstable since the day he saw his brother die.

Pushing the guilt aside, she tried to become enraged and allow the fury to overwhelm her body. She had to get angry, had to push Harry out of the room. Then…once she was alone, she could cry and remind herself that it wasn't her fault.

"So, you're here because you want to know why I stayed behind?" she asked.

Closing his eyes, he slowly nodded. "Yes, I am." He opened his eyes to glance down at his watch. "And I have 6 minutes left."

"Don't rush me," she said, making her voice sounding more snappish that anything.

She had to find a way to turn this situation in her favour. Harry wasn't going to leave until he got an explanation and something told her that if he didn't give an answer, he would gladly use Legilimency or Veritaserum on her. She always knew that he favoured Ron over her.

Chewing on her lip, she pulled away from his touch, pacing across the room as she fought for some idea, so thing that could give her leverage. Her mind swirled with a myriad of thoughts and ideas, 99% of which were instantly rejected.

Suddenly, she snapped her fingers, looking over at the brunet.

"Only on this condition; what I say here shall not be repeated to a single living or dead being. You are not permitted to repeat a single word to anyone or anything at all unless I give you permission, understood?" She crossed her arms, waiting for his rebuttal.

Harry was brighter than he looked at times and he knew that he had to find something to get her in return. If he were to make such a promise, he knew that she could find a hex or curse to put on him, ensuring that he did not break a vow. She would, he realized, normally ask for them to perform an Unbreakable Vow, but they did not have a Bonder.

So he had to find something to tie her with, to ensure that he would be able to hold her to something as well.

"You have to promise me something, too," he said after a moment's thought.

Arching a brow, it was clear that she had not expected that reaction from him. Maybe Harry was a lot smarter than he had appeared, she thought.

Chewing on her lip, hoping that it wasn't something she would have no choice but to agree to, whether she wanted to or not, she nodded her head. "What's your condition?"

"I won't say anything to anyone," he began, "only if you promise to tell Ron everything when we come back from vacation. And I mean everything. I'll try to ease him, to calm him enough so that when we get back he doesn't go completely mental. I'll even be there if you want."

She let go of the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, exhaling soft as relief washed through her system. She had feared that it would have been something far worse, but this…this made sense. This, she could do; she'd been planning on doing it from the start.

She knew that whether she made the vow or not, she would have to face Ron before the end of the school year. This just made that confrontation loom even nearer. She dreaded it but she would have to face it.

"All right," she replied. "I agree. But," she added, "if you go against your word, there will be severe consequences. You remember what happened to Marietta." He nodded, and she continued, "What will happen to you will be far worse."

"Only if you get the same punishment if you don't keep up your end," he added.

She nodded, the disbelief at the situation finally hitting her. She couldn't believe that she had to make a deal with Harry in order to explain her actions. Never, not once in her life, would she have thought that it would have come down to this. If anyone had told her that one day, she would have to make such a deal; she would have laughed in their face.

Now…now as the reality of the situation sunk in, she felt only pain. An unbearable pain that could be linked only to the feeling of loss; she had somehow, since this whole ordeal had begun, lost a piece of Harry she had once kept close to her heart.

His trust…

She was already pushing her friends away, all because she had felt bad for one man.

She was doing one of the few things she ever wanted to do. She didn't want to push her friends away, didn't mean to ruin any friendships or strain things. She just wanted to make Draco happy. Everybody deserved to be happy at some point in time.

And now…now because she just wanted to give him a happy Christmas, she was destroying her relationship with the few people she truly loved and cared about, in spite of all of their faults.

All because she was beginning for fall for him.

Blinking rapidly as tears of guilt threatened to overflow, she swallowed thickly and forced herself to stand in a strong, proud, fearless stance that would not give way any hint of her inner pain. She would let him think her weak.

"It's a deal." She reached out to shake his hand and, as they hands touched, they pulled out their wands in unison, muttering the spell for a slightly different version of the Unbreakable Vow. Ribbons of gold and silver spun around their hands, tightening before suddenly exploding into a thousand flecks of dust, fading rapidly away as though an invisible wind carried them.

"You have less than five minutes, Hermione," Harry reminded her of his time constriction.

Nodding, she gestured to the foot of her bed. "I suggest you take and seat and don't interrupt me; if you do, it'll only take me longer to say what I have to say."

Shaking his head in agreement, Harry took a seat at the foot of her bed, hands in lap, waiting impatiently for her to continue.

She watched his leg shake an erratic, nervous rhythm, foot tapping ceaselessly against the floor, as she fought to gather enough courage to tell Harry the whole truth behind her actions.

Inhaling, throat nervously clenching; she took a second deep breath before plunging into the icy cold water that was unveiling the truth.

"My initial reason for staying behind was because I felt bad. Draco and I," she saw the way he jerked at the use of Draco's first name, "had had a discussion about Christmas and he stated that he had never had a real Christmas. This was maybe a few days before the last day of classes. I felt bad; even though he had not always been a lovable, compassionate person, even he deserved to have some kind of Christmas.

"It was," she admitted quietly, "almost like charity in the beginning. I didn't know him well, but I just wanted to make him feel happy. Maybe it was to make myself feel better, to get rid of the guilt that I had when I realized that I had spent so many Christmases with family and friends and that he had never experienced a single love-filled one. I didn't, in any way or form, have any feelings for him at the beginning."

Harry twitched again at the last two words, terrified to know exactly what she meant by saying them.

"But…for a little bit, I was wondering if I should even bother. He was a right annoying prat and really, I was getting fed up of his childish behaviour." She began to pace, twisting her hands nervously as she began to wander into dangerous territory. "But…but, I had to do something, to see if there was something good in him, to see if my staying here would actually do something, if it were possible for him to actually enjoy Christmas."

"That's when you made snowmen and snow angels," Harry added, quickly silencing at the glaring look Hermione sent in his direction. But, before the fierceness of her glower, he could see the hurt, the guilt, and the anxiety that shimmered in her amber eyes.

She didn't want to tell him this; there was something she wanted to keep from him and everyone.

It was something he wanted to know and was terrified to discover.

"Yes…yes. And…and after that…afterwards…my reason for staying behind changed. It wasn't that I just felt bad; I just _knew_ that he deserved to have a good Christmas…to have at least one pleasant memory. I liked this side of him, the way he smiled, how he actually enjoyed himself, and I didn't see it as some 'charity' thing anymore. I…I sort of started to care…" she admitted quietly, lowering her head in fear of seeing the hurt and betrayal in Harry's eyes.

Ron…Ron was easy to deal with; he felt betrayed over the slightest things. She knew that she could wave his anger aside. But when it came to Harry, she just couldn't bear to watch the pain play across his face with knowledge that she had caused it. They had stuck through everything together, in spite of his lack of compassion towards her. No matter what happened, they had always been there for each other, through thick and thin. And now…now she was doing something, admitting something, that just might destroy his trust in here.

She was falling for his enemy.

Even though Draco had proven to be anything but that during the final years of the war.

He glanced quickly at his watch, noting that he had about two minutes left. Two minutes to pry and probe into her mind and decipher the meaning behind her words. He could feel the little stings of pain all over his body, starting within his nervous system and going outwards to zap against his skin. But he didn't want to let it overwhelm him just yet, not when he was unsure of what she meant.

"Care about what, Hermione? Did you start to care about him or about giving him a happy Christmas?" he asked, watching as she kept her head lowered, as though consumed by shyness and guilt.

"I…I suppose…" she swallowed thickly, pushing herself to continue, forcing herself to speak the damning words, "I…it began as a little bit of both and then…then I started to care more about him…"

The silence was deafening; she swore that the only thing she could hear was the echo of her heart hammering in her ear drums, playing a foul, cruel rhythm of terror and apprehension. Her body thrummed with tension, so unbelievably taut from fear that it made her muscles ache. She couldn't move, couldn't do anything, until she heard his response.

She was, oh so terribly, to just continue as though she had said nothing out of the ordinary, but she just couldn't. It was as though time had frozen on this exact moment, as though some fates were cruelly enjoying watching this inevitable moment unfold.

Slow motion, everything was so indescribably slow, and she watched as Harry's face twisted into a macabre mask of confusion and anger. His eyes narrowed, cheeks shifting and tightening, lips thinning into a scowl of disappointment. Watching his face change and shift was a morbidly fascinating thing, something she just couldn't take her eyes off.

"You had better be kidding, 'Mione."

It an instant time forwarded itself, speeding up to its normal pace with a loud, whooshing sound, slamming into her body with the force of lightning hitting the ground, shocking her nerves endings with such power that she was momentarily dazed.

Blinking, sucking on her lower lip with nervousness, she fought for some kind of logical idea, for some intelligent reasoning behind her badly chosen words.

But there was no way one could ever logically and intelligently describe the metaphorical heart and the emotions it brought about.

She could do nothing but shake her head and let her shoulders sag in defeat, feeling the tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. Perplexity drifted through her as she realized that this should be a moment of joy, not one of the sadness, until she reminded herself of the further disintegrating relationship she had with Harry.

She was about to lose one of her best friends in the whole world, all because she had to fall for Draco Malfoy.

Moistening her lips, she took several calming breaths, pushing the tears and fears away as she gathered her thoughts and tried to form a comprehensible sentence. "I…it's not exactly as it sounds."

His look was deadly, daring her to continue and let him be judge of her words; if they were not to his liking, the results would be catastrophic.

"What I meant was…I started to care a little more about what he felt. At first, like I said, it was like…well, charity. I just wanted to give him a happy Christmas and that was it. But…but after seeing him smile, truly smile for the first time, I just…I just wanted to know what would make him happy." She let out a quiet breath, praying that she wasn't giving away any telltale signs that she was growing fond of Draco Malfoy. "I started to care about what he felt, what he wanted, what would make him happy and sad, and I wanted to please him. It was more than just giving him a happy Christmas; I wanted to make him happy."

She watched, with relief, as some of the tension left Harry's body. "So you're not staying behind because you're madly in love with him?"

"No, I'm not in love with him," she responded quietly.

Why…why did it hurt so much to admit such a thing? Why did it make her heart feel as though it was being shorn apart by barbed wire? Why did it make every nerve ending grow so cold it burned her flesh? Why did her breath suddenly go away, as though her lungs could no longer hold a single ounce of air?

Why did it make her want to fall to her knees and cry?

"Well, that's good."

No it wasn't…

It hurt too much for it to be a good thing…

She looked up at him, praying that there was no inkling of pain in her eyes. She watched as he stood up, glancing down at his watch for the fiftieth time that night. His gaze turned towards her, the burning emerald glowing with happiness.

"So, it was all a charity event. You just stayed behind because you felt bad and you really don't give a bloody fuck about Malfoy," he said, each word growing louder as relief and joy began to filter through him. "You don't care about him at all; this was just some volunteer work." He moved forward, giving her a hard pat on the shoulder.

Why did it almost hurt to touch him?

"I…I never said…"

"Of course you did, Hermione. I heard you as plain as day; you just stayed behind because you pitied the bloody wanker. Man, Christmas is going to be a lot easier to deal with now that I know this." He raised his hands, as though caught red-handed or making a promise. "Don't worry; I won't tell anybody, I swore that I wouldn't and I keep my promises."

She nodded, knowing that whatever she said would be spoken in vain; Harry was too engrossed in the idea that she really didn't care about Draco. She wanted to slap the smile from his face, to grab the collar of his shirt and scream '_I fucking care! I do give a fuck about him! I think I'm starting to fall in love with him!'_

The fear was too consuming, the anxiety too powerful, and all she could do was watch him double and triple check his watch, standing by the fireplace as though expecting someone out of it in any second.

"Thank you, Hermione, for telling me the truth. I know that maybe it was bit rude of me to demand it," he said, voice softening as a small amount of shame dared slip into his thoughts. "But…I just couldn't go through Christmas without knowing. Thank you for being honest. I swear, Ron will be the happiest bloke on Earth when he finds out the truth."

Harry grinned at her just as the fire behind him turned a vivid green. "Right on time," he mumbled as he moved to step into the flames.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he said loudly.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," she said softly. "I…I might come and visit on the 24th, to see my family and explain everything to them…" she added as an afterthought.

She barely saw him nod, hearing him call out "the Burrow" before disappearing in a swirl of green fire.

Letting go of the breath she had not known she'd been holding, she moved over to her bed, collapsing on the end as she buried her face in her hands.

What was she going to do? She had to tell Ron the truth come January, but she had a strange feeling that, by January, she would more than just like Draco Malfoy.

She might actually be in love with the blond git.

Her head flew up at the sound of a door slowly creaking open, eyes falling on the bathroom door as it swung in on its hinges. There, behind the door, face a mask of cold, calculating fury, stood Draco Malfoy.

"So…I'm just a charity event, aren't I?"

* * *

**It thought that it would be time to have a good, major conflict in the plot, don't you? Like the previous chapter, I had originally not planned this, but it just came to me one day and I fell in love with the idea. **

**Like I promised with the last chapter, I will not play WoW until I have it posted; I haven't played in a good week, which is irking my boyfriend and making his brother laugh (the kids out-levelled me by four levels, damn brat).**

**Review overview before the recipe**

**Flames -**** shall be promptly ignored and put aside for Draco to destroy with his anger.**

**Constructive criticism/Corrections -**** very much welcome. Like usual, if you find any typos, please notify me in your review and specify as to where you found them and what the typo is. I will correct them as soon as possible.**

**Adoration -**** the most loved review of all. Always welcome in order to boost my ego and get a chapter finished sooner.**

**Recipe time!**

**Christmas Bombe with Whisky Sauce**

**Ingredients**

**1 cup mincemeat**

**4 cups vanilla ice cream, softened**

**2 cups strawberry ice cream, softened**

**2 cups chocolate or coffee ice cream, softened**

**Whisky Sauce:**

**½ cup butter**

**1 cup granulated sugar**

**1 egg**

**½ cup whisky**

**Directions:**

**In large bowl, fold mincemeat into 2 cups (500 mL) of the vanilla ice cream; reserve in freezer. Spread remaining vanilla ice cream around sides of 8-cup (2 L.) bowl, preferably stainless steel. Freeze for 30 minutes**

**Spread strawberry ice cream over vanilla, freeze for 30 minutes. Repeat with chocolate ice cream. Spoon mincemeat mixture into ice cream; smooth top. Cover with foil; freeze for 5 hours or until firm.**

**Whisky sauce: In heavy saucepan, melt butter. Stir together sugar and egg; add to butter and cook gently over medium heat for 2 to 3 minutes or until sugar has dissolved. Let cool to room temperature. Stir in whisky.**

**Dip mould into hot water to unmould onto serving plate. Let soften slightly for 30 minutes in refrigerator. Pour half of the Whisky Sauce over bombe; pass remaining sauce separate. Makes about 8 servings.**

**This recipe was brought to you by, The Canadian Living Cooking Collection: Great Desserts, page 7.**

**The previous chapter's recipe was brought to you by, The Canadian Living Cooking Collection: Muffins and Cookies, page 50. **

**Thank you guys! Take care and enjoy this recipe!**

**P.S. I plan on being done before next Christmas, lol. **


	20. Crash and Burn

**Chapter 19**

**Crash and Burn**

The second she slammed the door in his face, he knew that something was up. He had seen the flash of robes in the crack, knew that she did not own a single pair of dark, forest green robes, and he knew that he had to find a way to figure out just what was going on.

Annoyed that she had pushed him away, worried about her safety, he forced himself to slowly walk towards his room, easing the door open without making a single sound. He couldn't alert her to his current plans.

He had to keep fighting the urge to run, the desperate, aching need inside of him to sprint back to the door and bang repeatedly against it until it opened and allowed him to protect her.

He had to be slow, however. He had to be quiet, to not alert anyone of his presence or intention.

In spite of his rapidly beating heart, he tiptoed his way to the door leading to their shared bathroom, hoping that Hermione was too distracted to silence her bathroom door. He knew, from one particular occasion, that she had a tendency to forget locking it when changing.

It had been an accident; he had reminded her on several occasions. He could still remember her screaming at him, claiming that he was some pervert when all he had wanted was to ask if she had seen his Potion's book.

Although, he had to admit that she view of her naked back had been more than worth the pain of the curses she had thrown at him.

Shaking his head, forcing his thoughts back to the task as hand, he reached out to slowly open the door, praying to unseen forces that hers wasn't wide open.

Grinding his back teeth as the door creaked just the slightest; he took a deep breath before swinging it open. A small flood of relief washed through him when he saw the sight of her closed door and he made his way into the bathroom, grateful that tiles did not creak or groan.

He gently pressed his body against the door, continuously praying that he could hear whatever was going on in the room, adding further hopes that what was going on did not harm Hermione in any way or form.

"_Everything!_ Christmas is ruined and it's all because you decided to stay behind!"

Fucking Potter…Draco almost growled at the sound of the green-eyed twit's voice, resisting the urge to throw himself in the room and on top of the brunet so he could pound the shit out of him.

How dare that conceited prick pin all of the blame on Hermione? Did he not realize that Ron was the one overreacting? Ron was so undeniably smitten by Hermione that the redheaded git allowed it to consume him.

The damn Weasel was being overdramatic and was in desperate need of a wake up call.

If only he were here now…Draco would give him a wake up call that he would never forget…

Tucking his lower lip between his teeth, he pressed his ear against the door, fighting off the urges to destroy Harry Potter as he listened to the brunet rant and rave to Hermione. How dare he come in and say things like that? Oh, sure, maybe he was 'wording it differently' now, but in the end, it all meant the same, right?

The bastard was blaming every little thing on Hermione and Hermione alone.

No, it wasn't Mrs. Weasley's fault for being an overreacting bitch. Nope, most definitely not Ginny's fault for being a stupid, annoying chit…although he had to figure that maybe the Weaslette was on her Bitch Week, so maybe she had some kind of an excuse for the exaggeration of her usual emotions and behaviour…

And it was obviously not Hermione's parents' fault for showing up without their daughter, assuming everything without actually knowing a thing.

'_What do Muggles say about assuming again?'_ Draco wondered, absentmindedly tapping on his chin while searching for the thought. '_Ah, yes, if you assume you only make an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'.'_ He chortled quietly, quickly stifling the sound in fear of being discovered.

Ah…Ron. Stupid, pathetic, weak-minded, Ronald Weasley…Honestly, that redhead had less brain cells than a bloody chicken with its head cut off. Babbling and crying, eh? Sulking in his room? Sounds more like dramatics than anything else to Draco. Although, Draco had never been passionately in love before, so maybe it was rather normal, given that the Weasel brood were all in possession of rather volatile temperaments.

It was as though the whole pack was constantly PMSing.

Draco's silent chuckling was broken by Harry's sudden outburst.

"They think you're shagging Draco Malfoy!"

Well… the thought was rather pleasant but quite untrue, although rather close to what they had done just mere minutes ago.

The chuckling returned as Draco considered what might have happened if Potty had appeared downstairs instead of in Hermione's room, only a few minutes earlier. _That_ would have made an interesting conversation starter, to say the least.

But then, he would've interrupted their time and Draco might have never known the pleasant sensation of having Hermione come in his arms.

Swallowing as his throat constricted, body tensing with the return of his aching need, he closed his eyes and willed himself to focus on what was being said in the room beyond. Oh, thank Merlin that the delightful Hermione _always_ forgot to charm and lock the door leading to the bathroom.

He once considered teaching her a lesson she'd never forget, but that would mean she would actually _start_ locking and silencing the door, which would be bad for the voyeuristic Draco.

Although…if their relationship did en up progressing to sex, he figured that maybe he could wait until she was wanking and teach her a lesson she would never forget…And, if it went well, she would certainly _never_ lock or silence the doors ever again!

'_Draco Malfoy, you are bloody brilliant!'_ he mentally cried, lips curled into a triumphant, broad grin.

"Ron loves you."

Draco nearly choked on his saliva at the outburst, pressing his head as close to the door as possible, straining to hear the slightest reaction from Hermione.

So, the Weasel did love Hermione? Well, that was just too bad because Hermione was too smart to fall for an idiot like the redhead. The simple thought of Hermione actually falling for Weasel was enough to make Draco see red. It threatened to cause his blood to boil and rage was ready to consume his body.

If Hermione were to actually love the Weasel back, Draco was prepared to kill and be killed in order to make her see the true side of her idiot friend.

Ronald Weasley was not good enough to deserve Hermione's friendship and love.

He jerked his head away from the door, the meaning behind his words causing his entire body to quake with sudden fear.

Did that…did that mean that Draco thought _he_ deserved her love and friendship? That he, Draco Malfoy, was deserving of her heart?

It was silly notion, love. Something that clearly clouded ones senses and made them forget about everything important. Certainly, he had fathomed the idea that there was a particular chemistry, some kind of attraction between himself and Hermione. But never had he actually dabbled with the idea that one of them might love the other.

Did it mean something? Did this sudden thought…sudden idea…mean that he might be literally falling for the quick-witted woman in the next room?

It was true, her mere presence made him far more comfortable and content, and her touch and scent always seemed to consume his very senses. Touching her, holding her in his arms made him feel a way no other woman had ever made him feel before. Hell, the slightest thought of losing her terrified him more than his father used to.

Maybe…maybe he was…

"Don't rush me."

The irked remark tugged him out of dangerous waters, pulling him away before he could conclude to something that he was outright petrified of concluding.

Malfoys do not fall in love with Muggle-Borns, reformed or not. It didn't matter if Hermione had a spectacular personality, was as stubborn as an ox, was the brightest witch in the past century, or that she was relatively attractive. It just wasn't part of their genetic make-up to fall for plain Janes.

Right?

Even that argument sounded pathetic to his ears, he thought with a sigh, pressing back against the door to listen in.

His sweet, his wonderful, his amazing Hermione was making a very good deal with Harry right now. Damn, some days he couldn't believe how smart she was.

Wait a second…'his' Hermione? Since when did he start calling her 'his'?

Several parts of his mind reacted as once, creating some kind of maelstrom in his brain. One part laughed at the image of how Hermione would react to being called 'his Hermione'. Another screamed at him for making such a horrendous mistake. She could not possibly be his because he wasn't supposed to have her. Another part was quite amused, pleased and slightly aroused at the idea of calling Hermione 'his,' not in a way that objectified her, but in a fashion that attached her to him and only to him, as though they belonged to each other.

She would be his and he would be hers.

Grinning at the thought, he willed himself to push all other conflicting emotions aside to dissect later, continuously trying in vain to remain entire focused on the task of listening in on Harry and Hermione's discussion.

Curling his lip in annoyance, he tried his hardest to not barge into the room and smack Potter across the face. Fuck Potty and his hidden intellect. Fuck him for picking out some kind of benefit in their deal. Fuck him for thinking that Hermione was in the wrong!

Draco knew…Draco knew that Hermione didn't have to explain herself to her friends. He knew that she was only going along in order to get rid of Harry and, temporarily, remove one dispute from her life. Friends, Draco thought, shouldn't have to demand explanations from other friends when somebody did something out of the ordinary. Hermione did something different, something for herself, and everyone was acting as though she had deliberately hurt her friends for selfish reasons.

'_Get the fuck out and leave her alone!'_ he screamed in his mind, glaring at the door as though it would penetrate the wood and burrow itself in Harry's forehead. Right now, he wished that the expression 'glaring daggers' were true, because he would yank out one of those daggers mid air, charge into the room, and slit the damn Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Fucking-Die-No-Matter-What-You-Did's throat.

Then the fucker would really die and Hermione could be left in peace. No more Potty to bitch at her, no more Weasel to verbally abuse her, nobody to pester, bother, and hurt her anymore.

Finally, she would be able to smile freely with him without fear of retaliation. She could walk down the halls with head held high, spirits free, and she would not have to hide anything from her so-called friends.

She would be able to kiss him without worrying every ten seconds.

He grinned at that thought, imagining the looks on their faces if Potty and Weasel were to catch them lip-locking. Oh, he could just see it now. They would walk up behind her so she wouldn't see them, but Draco would. He would wink at them and make her moan with pleasure right in front of their nosey faces.

Oh yeah, he would show them how a real man treated his woman. He would make them pay for treating her the way they did. He would make sure that they never mistreated another woman for the rest of their lives.

For now, however, he could do nothing but stand behind the door and listen.

"I suggest you take and seat and don't interrupt me; if you do, it'll only take me longer to say what I have to say."

Draco found his body slowly sliding to the floor, leaning against the door in an attempt to hear every single spoken word. He sat comfortably, waiting in silence for Hermione to continue, aching to hear the damning words that would forever mark Harry and Ron as horrendous friends. He wanted to hear the words from her mouth, wanted to hear her say that she had chosen to stay with him out of free will, that nothing had forced her to stay, that her reason for staying was because she enjoyed his company.

Apprehension slowly made its way through his body, heart pulsing wildly as he continued to wait for her words to fill the room.

What if she had lied to him? What if she had just gotten close to him to get dirt on him and use it against him? What if it had been a dare and this whole scheme was being made up, as though they knew that he was right outside the door, listening to their every word?

There were far too many what ifs, and the majority of them were negative. He didn't want to dwell on those possibilities; he didn't want to go over the chance of them being true; he wanted to keep believing that she had stayed with him to be with him.

He wanted so badly to hear her say those kind words that a dim part of him whispered that he would be devastated if she said otherwise.

"My initial reason for staying behind was because I felt bad."

His heart immediately plummeted to his toes and he felt a pain like no other begin to swarm through his body. She felt bad? She pitied him? Her original reason for staying behind was because she _felt bad_ for him?

Gods…Gods that hurt…that hurt like nothing else had ever hurt before. But there was still that dim glimmer of hope, that little silver lining that whispered her first words '_My initial reason.'_ That meant that it had been her first reason, which means that there was another, more definitive, more powerful reason why she decided to stay behind with him.

What was it?

'_Please…please don't let this whole vacation, this whole time with her, be some lie,'_ he thought. He had dealt with so many liars, so many two-faced 'friends' in the past. Now, just when he thought he had someone who was his friend without any benefits, he knew that it would hurt beyond imagination if he discovered that she had had an alternate reason for staying with him.

He listened to her explain their discussion; listened as she told that scar head about his lack of Christmases, lack of sentimental gifts, and he felt some anger mounting. How could she go about telling these people his secrets? What gave her the right to go gallivanting about, announcing his every thought and wish to the entire world? She hadn't asked for his permission.

That little witch…he had gifted her with the information under the impression that she would keep it to herself. Well, he knew better now.

His gut twisted painfully as the thought filtered through his mind. A part of him wished that she had never told Potter those things, wished that she could have remained silent and faithful to Draco.

Another part of him, that smaller, older, crueller part, was content that she was slowly burning the bridge between them. It would make things easier on them; make it a lot easier for him to push her away when the time came to it.

But did he really want to push her away? Did he _have_ to?

Was he ready to turn back and embrace the darker side just because he feared a relationship with a Muggle-Born?

No…no…not at all…

In fact, he loved his relationship with her so much that it pained him to hear her says those words to Potter. It hurt to know that he would no longer be able to trust her with such secrets.

He had hoped, prayed, that he had finally found someone whom he could trust, and now…she decimated it with a single sentence.

"It was almost like charity."

He went blind with pain. It was an agony like no other, an unstoppable, overwhelming pain that consumed him from the inside out. It bled out of his heart, surging through his veins to reach out and drown his nerve endings. He couldn't hear anything except for the roar of blood in his ears, couldn't feel anything except for the mind numbing pain that coursed through his body.

He…he was nothing but a charity case to her…

She didn't give a damn about him…she didn't care about what he wanted, didn't really want to know his dreams or aspirations. She just felt bad, guilty about having her own jolly Christmas, and wanted to make herself feel better.

He was just some charity cause, like giving to the homeless or donating to cancer. He was pitiful and unwanted. Just another useless person she wanted to make a little bit better.

It all fit now, her choice in men, Krum, the dimwitted in dire need of someone with brains, McLaggen, the brute in need of a feminine touch, Weasel, the only one who was pathetically useless in every single thing and in dire need of someone to give him direction and instruction.

Now him, Draco Malfoy, the boy who was left unloved, in need of some kind of love, fake or true.

So everything…everything had been a lie from the very beginning. Nobody, according to her and her Saintly friends, would ever come to love a guy like him. Especially not the perfect Hermione Granger.

Everything was a lie…

The way she writhed under his touch, the way she cried and slept in his arms, her laughter as they shopped, her insistence that they spend more time together, and, most importantly, the way she kissed him.

He now knew that she writhed in pain from his touch, unable to stand the feeling of his hands on her skin. Her tears had been real, tears of pain at the reminder that she was stuck with him for the next few weeks. Perhaps she had really slept in his arms, but had she slept well and enjoyed it? He knew that she had laughed _at_ him and not with him, and she had forced herself to spend their time together.

He was a charity case, remember? He was someone she had to repair, even though he hardly felt broken before this. She _had_ to spend time with him in order to change and fix him. No wonder she got so agitated and angry whenever they had spent more than two days avoiding each other. It wasn't because she wanted to spend time with him, it was because she needed to in order to change him before the end of Christmas break.

Had she made some sort of deal with someone? Some kind of bet? She could 'fix' Draco Malfoy by the end of the Christmas break or she would have to run through the Great Hall naked during breakfast?

What was she going to get if she did 'fix' him?

Anger began to flood him as the pain slowly washed away. She wanted to fix him, eh? She wanted to change him from the snarky, cruel prat that was Malfoy, into the refined, kind, joyful Draco.

She felt bad, didn't she? She felt bad that he'd never had a 'real Christmas,' eh? She wanted to give him the Christmas everybody wanted to experience, right? That stupid little bitch was just easing her guilt. She didn't care about him. She didn't give a damn about what he thought or how he would feel once the façade was dropped. She didn't give a flying fuck about his feelings.

She just felt 'bad' and wanted to erase the feeling. Well, he would show that little bitch a thing or two about 'feeling bad.' Wait until Potter left – he didn't want to show his emotions to the Scarhead – and then he would come out and show her the true definition of regret and guilt.

That bitch was going to pay for this. She'd lied to him, made him believe that she had really wanted to try and establish a relationship with him. She made him tell her his secrets, gotten past his security with warm touches and embraces, and she made him utterly vulnerable with her false, delectable kisses.

She was like everyone else; she never once saw the changes he made, never saw past the way he used to be, and never once opened her mind to the possibility that he might be a far better person now. She hated him and used him; she never meant a single word he had said.

Was that why she had hesitated when he had asked her out? She never truly intended for their relationship to extend beyond this Christmas charity event. This was why she always had to be near him. Always had to try and instigate some conversation that slowly broke through his shield. She _had_ to get close to feel less guilty. She _had_ to 'fix' him or live with the regret for the rest of her life.

She didn't actually give a damn about him or his feelings.

It was all about pity and getting rid of her sudden burst of sympathy and guilt as fast as possible.

It didn't matter how he felt once it was over. It didn't matter if he wanted to continue the friendship, to try and make it long-term.

It was a charity event.

He threw himself away from the door, away from her spiteful, poisonous words that tore his heart asunder. He prowled the room, paced it like an injured, caged animal. He wanted to tear everything apart, to shred every single thing in the vicinity, to break down the door and scream at the witch until his throat was raw and bloody.

Scream at her until he could scream no more.

He wanted to send her a million Howlers, to let her know that she was nothing but a selfish bitch, let her know that he would fucking fine without her.

He'd been doing fine since before she stepped her nosey body into his life. He'd doing perfectly fine.

He barely managed to silence the room before grabbing the nearest object and throwing it at the nearest wall. The mirror cracked, shattered pieces falling into the sink as the shampoo bottle exploded against the reflective surface.

His image was marred, his reflection blotted by the pink substance, fractured by the cracks and holes. It resembled, he noted masochistically, his very soul at this moment. Her touch marred him, cracked him, and covered some areas in her false love, tearing others apart with her vicious words.

He didn't want to stop, he wanted to keep throwing things at that mirror until it became nothing but dust, but he still held some semblance of control. He knew that it would make him feel better; the violence threatening to overwhelm his body would be calmed.

But it would only be for a short period of time. Once he saw her face, the second he was within reach of her, the violence would be back tenfold and he feared just what he might do.

He just might kill her.

He…he couldn't do that. The logical side, the cool, calculative, emotionless part of his mind shouted that he should never risk going to Azkaban. He might want her dead, but he would not be able to deal with the consequences.

Another part…smaller now, slowly diminishing, finding a little crevice behind his heart to hide, whispered that he still cared about her, despite her heartless words.

His nails dug into his skull and he clenched his eyes shut. He still cared about her even after she admitted that she cared more about a dung beetle than him. He actually still gave a fuck about her.

Fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck…he needed to get his body under control. He was allowing himself to be consuming by the warring emotions of wrath and despair. So far, wrath was winning and it was screaming for him to attack and destroy. He knew, deep down, that he was overreacting, knew that there was no reason for his emotions to grow so volatile, but for some reason, whenever Hermione Granger had been involved in the last few weeks, he had always been sensitive.

She had sunk her claws into him and was not going to let go easily.

Never…never before in his life had he been so furious. Never had he been so enraged, so ready to wreak havoc.

He slowed down his breathing, hoping that it would ease his pounding heart and, somehow, his rage. He needed to clear his mind as much as possible, to push away the emotions swirling in his mind, blinding him from everything logical. He needed to breathe and remind himself that he was a Malfoy, not some overly emotional pubescent girl.

He had to use his wits, his cunning, to make her pay. Violence would do no good, physical pain was something that went away far quicker than psychological. He would use his words, but in order for it to have any effect, he had to be in full control of his mind and body.

Violence could wait…despair would have to take a number…he had to be as emotionless as a rock, solid and cold.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat back on the edge of the bathtub, breathing heavily until he finally had full control of his body. As his lids slowly opened, he felt a flush of embarrassment cover his cheeks at the loss of control.

'_Not again,'_ he silently told himself as he cleaned up the mess, '_I won't lose control again. I'll make her see; I'm far better off without her in my life. She'll see…'_

He made his way back to the door, grateful that he had had enough wits to silence the room before his sudden, violent outburst. Removing the charm, he stood by the door, listening for the sounds of Potter's departure.

The second Scarhead was out of the room; he would go in there and make her pay.

Nobody made a charity case out of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

It didn't take long, either Potter could only wrangle so much time with her, or he cared even less about the girl than Draco had thought. All he knew was that, in a matter of minutes, he heard the telltale whoosh of the fire, and the second Potter finished saying his destination, the blond was opening the door.

She was on her bed, face in hands, clearly exhausted. That dim part hiding near his heart ached for her, begged him to go and console her. But he knew better…she lie to him, she would pretend to accept his compassion and use his kindness as a way to relieve her guilt.

No more…no more falling for her traps.

The door creaked, just a bit, but loud enough to attract her attention. He resist the urge to let his lips curl into a savage smirk as the look of horror etched in her face as she saw him standing there.

Let it begin…

"So…I'm just a charity event, aren't I?"

He watched the horror deepen, saw her fumble for words, clearly at a loss. Good…she knew that the gig was up. She had been found.

Hopefully she wouldn't make this harder on herself than it had to be.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about, Draco," she finally stammered out, moving to her feet.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the door casually. However, although everything about the stance screamed casualness, a savage, dominating aura oozed from him. He was wound up tight, ready for a fight, physical or verbal, and he was ready to bring the pain.

"Oh, I think you know _exactly_ what I'm talking about." This time he did smile, a cruel smirk that made her eyes shimmer with something close to fear. "I heard you, you know. Heard you tell Potter how bad you felt for me, how _terribly upset_ you were at finding out that I'd never had a Christmas."

"Then," she leapt to her feet, fear fading from her eyes, "you know that I did this for a good reason, right? You said you heard everything, so why are you saying that you were a charity case? I never told Harry that I didn't have a choice."

"Remember, Granger, I heard _everything_. Even the unspoken words. You never had a choice, did you? I was a charity case; you felt bad, you wouldn't dare go on vacation with that guilt. I think I know you well enough. You _pitied_ me." He spat out the word as though the very thought of it filled his mouth with a foul taste.

"I never…"

"You did. You only stayed behind because you felt bad for me and wanted to get rid of that bloody guilt."

Her hands clenched to fists, pain and panic slowly filling her veins as she listened to his cold, hateful words. "I never once felt guilty!" she cried. "I stayed behind because I wanted to!"

"Stop lying!" he shouted, eyes ablaze with fury. "Stop your fucking lying! I'm fed up of bloody gits like you lying to me every single fucking minute. I know the truth, Granger. I know that you never gave a single fuck about me. It was all about you. All about making yourself feel better. So what if I felt a little good in the process? So what if you gave me a decent memory? So what if you hurt me afterwards, rejecting my friendship once this ordeal was over? It's all collateral damage, isn't it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" she cried. "Stop this right now, it isn't funny. I never once said that I wouldn't be your friend."

He laughed a vicious laugh that chilled her to the bones and made her feel as though she had inhaled a bucket of ice water. The only time she had ever heard him laugh like that was before he had turned, back when he had thought that being a Death Eater was the grandest of all things.

"The only reason you never rejected it was because you _had_ to stay close to me." He stood from the doorframe, hands clenched at his sides. "I figured it out, Granger. You had me fooled for some time, but I'll have to thank Potter for helping me finally see the light. All those times when I wanted to be as far from you as I could, every time something embarrassing made us want to steer clear from each other, you were always the one to bring us back together. I know why now…it's because your plan wouldn't work if we weren't together. You couldn't 'give' me the good memories if you couldn't spend time with me."

"I wanted to," she nearly yelled. "I never once forced myself to spend time with you."

"I told you to stop lying, you stupid bint! I have it figured out! The Christmas shopping, the decorating, the baking, accepting our 'date,' hell, even taking care of me! You never meant a single thing! Not one!" He jerked, as though he had intended to reach out and punch the nearest object. "You didn't give a fuck about me! I was just a fucking charity event. Fucking charity! You didn't even see me as a real person with feelings! Just some messed up bloke who had to be fixed!"

"It was never like that! Not once!" she shouted, desperately aching to reach out and throttle him. "Sure, maybe I felt bad; I always figured that you were some spoiled child who had had the world's most amazing Christmases. Maybe I did feel a bit guilty; but I spent Christmas with you because I wanted to, not because my guilt forced me to."

He slammed his fist into the wall, eyes a dark, stormy grey of rage. "Stop your fucking lies. I heard you!"

"I lied to Harry!" she cried in desperation, praying that he had not heard the spell they had performed. "I lied to him to make him feel better."

"Shut the fuck up!" He began to pace, fighting the urges to go over and smack her across the face. To shut those pretty, lying lips with his hand. But…but he never could. Never would lay a hand on her…deep inside, he knew that no matter how much she infuriated and hurt him, he would never be able to physically harm her.

Her lips sealed shut at the shaking anger in his voice. She had been prepared to go over to him, to grasp his arm and tell him that he has misheard, to lie and tell him that everything she had told Harry was false. But now…watching him try in vain to control his anger, she knew that her touch would only add fuel to the fire.

A part of her knew that he would never hurt her, but at this moment in time, she was not ready to take the chance.

"I told you to stop lying to me." His voice shook with the effort it took to not smash something. "I heard that damn spell; I know you had to speak the truth. I'm not that dumb, Granger."

It was only now that she realized he had started to call her Granger. The animosity between them rose as the friendship she had worked so hard to build began to crumble before her. She could do nothing to stop it…

She opened her mouth to speak, desperate to salvage as much as she could before their relationship was completely obliterated, but he silenced her with a deadly glare.

"Shut that lying mouth of yours before I make you shut it." He was telling the truth, the only problem was that, as she stood there, eyes glistening with unshed tears of pain, guilt, and anger, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do more, kiss her or smack her. He was so enraged, he should hate her for everything she had done to him, should not want anything to do with her anymore, but her agony was nearly his undoing.

'_No more, I won't fall for her lies anymore. She caught me in her web once, I won't be caught as easily again,_' he mentally reminded himself.

"You're just Hogwarts number one volunteer, aren't you?" he hissed, fighting to get an edge back into his anger. "You just go around; finding every single boy who needs fixing and you fix him. Krum, McLaggen and the Weasel…they all needed to be fixed in some way or another. And then, when you found out I wasn't perfect, I had scars of my own, you just had to try and fix me. You _had_ to make me better, because if I didn't feel better, you would never get rid of that bloody guilt.

"You are so unbelievably selfish, Granger. Did you know that? So fucking selfish. Everyone thinks you're being stupid or selfless, oh, poor Granger, has to spend time with Draco because she feels bad for him! Fuck them. You only try to fix me because _you_ want to feel better. You never gave a damn about me!"

"I did," she said softly, tears threatening to spill over. "I did give a damn about you."

"If you gave a bloody damn about me, you would've left me alone! You've done nothing but cause pain and trouble for me! You _used_ me, Granger, fucking used me! I'm sick and tired of being used by so-called friends because they want to be on the good side with Voldemort or because they just want to blackmail me later on! I'm fed up with the bullshit!" He slammed his fist into the wall a second time for emphasis.

"Draco….I," she reached out, aching to touch him, needing to hold him and get rid of the tears in his eyes and pain in his heart. "I never…"

"Never what? Never intended for me to find out? Never thought the day would come that I might figure out exactly what you were up to?"

"I never meant to hurt you!" she cried out, eyes overflowing, tears streaking down her pale cheeks. "I…maybe it started as charity…but I never wanted to hurt you! I wanted to give you some good memories!"

"And then what? Once I had those memories, you would just walk away? Just like everyone else? Give me a few memories to look back on and let me spend the rest of my days alone? Thanks a lot! I'll look back and think 'How I wish that had never ended!' I'll hurt even more, because then I'll know that you never meant any of it. Every damn kiss, every touch, you didn't feel what I felt. You just did your duty as a volunteer, just like those idiots who let homeless and babies puke on them. You do it for the greater good of mankind. You do it so that you can sleep well at night, proud of yourself for making one person a little less sad or messed up. Fuck you, Granger, and your insipid, twisted, idealistic views. Not everyone _wants _to be fixed."

He moved to her door, resisting the urge to take everything on her dresser and break every little object.

"Draco…Draco," she pleaded. "Please…just listen to me."

"I've heard enough of your lies, Granger. I'm tired…tired of everyone pretending to be my friend." He unlocked and opened the door, sending one last furious look her way. "I was better off before you came into my life, so just get the fuck out of it."

With that, he slammed the door shut with such forced that several objects fell off of her dresser and crashed to the floor.

In less than a second, she followed the course of those objects, landing on her knees as she felt the most overwhelming pain and guilt she had ever experienced. Burying her face in her hands, feeling the most helpless she had ever felt, she sobbed.

* * *

**Holy shit, I'm done. **

**How many months did that take? Haha. **

**I want to apologise for such a long wait, I really didn't originally intend to make everyone wait THIS long for the next chapter, but things just got a little … messed up this summer. I wanted to write during vacation, but we were busy just about every day, and work was so overwhelming that I was simply exhausted. I actually suffered a really bad burnout a couple weeks back, and because of that burnout, I've been sick with a really bad cold for over a week. **

**To boot, I've been spending as much time as I could with my fiancé, seeing as he lives a good 45 minute drive away from my house and he just started CEGEP (I start University next week). **

**Let's also add in the soccer – I coached a boys' team (we won maybe three games all season, but destroyed in the playoffs and won GOLD! Go underdogs!) as well as playing for my own team.**

**I've just been so exhausted, and this was such a difficult chapter to write. I'm still not sure if I kept them in character enough, but we'll see. I just wanted this chapter to be as good as possible because it's an important one. It's the obstacle that they must overcome. **

**I suppose my only other excuse for not finishing this several months sooner was because I kinda HAD to start playing WoW again. I felt bad, my guild geared me like crazy when I was 'bout lvl 75, and then I stopped playing for a while and they kicked me from the guild. I started playing again a few weeks ago and finally made it to 80 and returned with my guild (they are the coolest group of guys ever, and half of them live nearby), and we've being doing a number of Raids, Heroics, and Dungeons to help gear me up.**

**So…I think that's it for excuses. I know it's not enough, I know that nothing 'cept for death or hospitalization excuses me from waiting so long to post this darn chapter, but it's finally up and I'm pretty happy with it.**

**Thank you all for your patience. Really. I feel horrible for making you all wait so long! I will make it up to you! I promise!!!!!**

**Thank you guys! I love you all for your devotion!! **


	21. Let Them Love

**Chapter 20**

**Let Them Love**

She wasn't sure how long she had sat on the floor. Time was no longer a factor, a necessity to her; it meant as little as the lint stuck to her socks. All she knew was that, she had sobbed until she could sob no more. Her chest ached as she heaved out the dry tears, hiccoughing wildly for a brief period before she was able to get enough air. Her throat was raw from the silent screams, eyes burning from dehydration.

She had cried until she had no more tears left to cry. And even then, her heart sobbed loudly in her chest.

Some part of her reminded her that this was her fault; if she had only stayed for purely good, selfless intentions, then this would not be happening. It chastised her, telling her that she should never have gotten involved. She should have left him alone, let him endure another Christmas without love or happiness.

She wasn't strong enough to do that…she just couldn't. It had pained her before to know of his past, to know that he had never had a true, beautiful memory. Now, it pained even more than, in the process of trying to give him such a memory, she had given him the worst kind possible.

Betrayal and heart ache.

Her mind whispered to her, telling her that she should never have let her heart out. She should never have opened it and accepted his kindness. She had known that, known what was at stake, and yet, she couldn't help it. She had needed to feel him, needed to become a part of him, to let him into her life and heart just as he had been willing to do the same.

His words broke her heart, the anger, the fury, the way his voice trembled with rage and pain. But, what really shattered her soul was the way his eyes had glistened with unshed tears.

She had made him cry…her selfishness, her stupidity, her callousness, had made Draco Malfoy, the heartless Slytherin Prince, cry.

Gods…what had she done? She wanted to make him happy, wanted to see him smile, and in the end, she only ended up hurting him more than he had ever been hurt before.

Her mind, through its pain, worked over the words he had shouted to her. This had happened before, she recalled. Perhaps not this exact situation, but something along the same lines had occurred.

He had said that he was sick of people pretending, using him to get close and blackmail or increase their social status. Her stomach churned at the thoughts, the reminders that maybe, in the end, he was truly far more alone than she had ever thought.

From what she knew, his only friends that had stuck through with him since the beginning were Blaise and Goyle. Crabbe's betrayal during the Second War was a harsh example and reminder of just how people used each other to get what they wanted.

Twisting into knots now, her stomach continued to jerk and force bile to rise up her throat as she coughed out dry tears.

She felt no better than Crabbe, no better than all of the others who had used and abused his kindness and friendship in the past. She had, albeit unknowingly, used him to relieve her guilt and sympathy. She knew deep down that each time he smiled, each time she helped create a good memory for him, that she had alleviated some of the guilt plaguing her mind and heart.

On the other hand, however, each time he smiled, her heart smiled with him. Each time he laughed, her soul giggling happily. Not because the guilt was fading, but because she just loved to see him content. As embarrassing as it was to admit, as insane as the notion was, she was falling for Draco Malfoy.

And she had destroyed their friendship in the worst kinds of ways.

Rubbing furiously at her eyes, fighting back the urge to scratch as them until the tears stop flowing, she tried to push through the pain to see clearer.

It was a difficult task; the image of him standing in her room, face drawn and etched with internal agony, constantly filled her mind. His words, harsh but true to an extant, filled her ears and were forever embedded in her memory. The pain in his eyes, the tears that had threatened to stain his cheeks, they were what broke her heart over and over again.

She had made the one man she'd give anything to see happy, sad.

What had she done? What had she fucking done?

The words repeated themselves in her mind, a constant reminder that she had done the worst thing imaginable.

She had broken someone's trust.

And not only that, but she had been prepared to lie to him the second he had stepped into the room. She had been ready to tell him that he had misheard, that she had lied to Harry and that the charm had never been put into place. All because she couldn't stand to see him upset.

Nor could she withstand the guilt that would have torn away at her until there was nothing left.

Dear Gods…what should she do? How could she show him that her guilt meant nothing, when it did mean something? How could she show him that it was more than her selfishness that instigated her actions? How could she show him that she truly did care?

"I need help," she murmured hoarsely, dragging her hands through her dishevelled hair. "I need someone to help me…someone good at this. Someone who will know what I should do…"

But what was the use? Did it really count if she had someone giving her the ideas? Did it really count if she couldn't figure out what to do all alone? Did it mean she really didn't care? Did it mean that she really only gave a damn about her own feelings? Or did it mean that she was desperate enough to gain his love back, that it showed just how much she yearned and ached for him? That being so overwhelmed by his hate, she was unable to think clearly and had to go for help.

She could always lie…but lying had gotten her in this situation to begin with.

She had…she had to find a way to talk to him, to tell him the full truth without having it blow up in her face. Of course, she needed to find a way to get him to listen to her for more than five seconds.

First off, she needed to find a way to win him back and show him how she truly felt.

"That's it, Hermione," she said softly, clambering to her feet, "push through the pain. Don't let it take you over. You need to think clearly in order to fix things, so think clearly."

The pain was still there, a constant ebbing and flowing of agony that rippled through her body, but she was pushing through it, desperate to repair this situation and his heart.

"Show him you care," she said, louder and stronger this time, "show him that, maybe, you might be falling in love with him."

* * *

Relief was a wonderful sensation. It flooded one's body instantaneously, like a cool shower after a run in the hot sun, like the feel of grass on under bare feet, like an internal cooling system that eased one's body into relaxation.

It was the best sensation so far, after love. Particularly because it came right after the horrendous feeling of stress; one's body would instantly unwind, the knots in the back would miraculously untie, and the churning storm of a stomach would calm down enough for the nausea to fade.

Yes, relief was a beautiful, amazing feeling.

Harry Potter was currently a victim of its euphoric capabilities, smiling broadly as he stepped back into the Weasley living room, ready and willing to tell the world that his best friend was not falling madly in love with a Ferret.

He didn't know or care that her life was currently falling apart, that at this precise moment said Ferret was shouting for her to stop trying make his better; Harry Potter's life was going back up again and he wanted the world to know.

"What are you doing up so early?"

He lifted his head towards the source of the words, the third eldest Weasley, Percy.

Harry jerked his head towards the stairs. "Who's up?"

Arching a brow at the way Harry avoided the question; Percy shrugged his shoulders and decided to indulge the Boy-Who-Lived for the time being. So long as Harry wasn't cheating on Ginny, everything would be just fine.

"Me, Mum's in the kitchen, I think I heard Charlie and Sarafina talking, too, but I wasn't too sure, and Bill's outside. Everyone else is asleep." Percy gave him a pointed look, signalling that he wanted his original question answered, and repeated, "Why are you up this early? You're never up before ten."

It was true, Harry realized. Unless he was at school, he had always been one to sleep in until about eleven or so. That is, of course, unless Ginny woke him up in a particular fashion, or if Molly shouted out that breakfast was ready. If Harry had to choose between an extra hour's sleep and Molly's breakfast, he would always choose the breakfast.

"I went to speak with Hermione," he replied quietly, praying that Ron was hiding somewhere in the house, sneaking about somewhere within earshot. "I got the answer."

A red brow lifted above the glasses' rim and Percy failed the battle to appear indifferent. "What happened?"

"I'll tell everyone what I can after breakfast."

"What you can? Is there stuff that you can't tell us?" Percy was a lot smarter than Harry ever gave him credit for.

"Don't worry," Harry said, moving over to clasp Percy's shoulder. "I'll tell everyone everything after breakfast; so long as Ron doesn't come down to eat."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Percy said gloomily. "If he hasn't come down yet, I don't see what will make him come down today."

Harry shrugged, heading towards Ginny's bedroom to give her his own kind of wake-up call.

* * *

_I need your help…_

"No, that doesn't do, that sounds unbearably stupid." Following the words was the sound of crumpling paper.

_You're the best in these kinds of situations; I really need your help with this…_

"Too desperate," the voice said with exasperation, the same sound as before following the spoken words.

_Luna, I fucked up, badly._

Hermione glared down at the fresh paper, angry with herself for being too upset to be able to properly cast an erasing spell. She had set the first piece of parchment on fire, and was now resorting to recycling the other letters she did not approve of.

"I suppose this will have to do. Not desperate, not stupid, but I really don't care for cursing in a letter." She sighed heavily, rubbing her weary eyes, debating as to whether or not she actually wanted to attempt erasing the profanity. "I give up. I'll leave it as this."

She then continued to write, rather fervently to boot, a letter to a certain Luna Lovegood, nearly begging for the woman to help her through this particularly nasty situation. Luna always knew what to do, always knew what to say, and she was always able to instigate some kind of inspiration within Hermione.

Luna Lovegood was the goddess of understanding people and Hermione desperately needed her help.

Hermione was, how as one to put it without hurting her feelings, particularly bad at deciphering emotions and helping people. In some cases, she was able to figure things out on her own, but in this particular case, she was at a loss of what to do, after hours of thinking and pacing.

She had heard the door to the Head's Chambers slam shut a good hour and a half ago, and knew that Draco was headed somewhere to take out his anger. She also knew that it would do him no good; unless she fixed this, he would forever remain infuriated with her.

She had debated giving him his present early, but then realized that she didn't even have a present for him yet. Hell, she hadn't even figured out what to give him for Christmas!

This planning and deliberating was done, of course, after having taken a hot shower and another good cry where she felt that the whole world had crashed down on her. Angry at herself for allowing her emotions to get the better of her, knowing fully well that if Draco were on speaking terms with her, he'd tell her to stop blubbering and start acting like her usual self, she began to formulate plans.

All of which had seemed more obscene than the last, unlikelier to have any good consequences, and really, really, stupid.

Until she was reminded of Luna Lovegood and her Messiah-like abilities to heal people and relationships. This occurred when she was collecting the various items she had either tossed in frustration or had fallen when Draco had slammed the door.

Speaking of fallen items, she wondered vaguely why her shampoo bottle had been lying in the sink instead of on the metal basket under the showerhead.

Had Draco…?

No, he wouldn't…actually, yes, he would. Hell, if he could have, she was certain he would've either thrown the whole door at her or thrown her out of the window. And laughed while she either lay on the floor bleeding or fell to the certain death.

Then he would probably feel bad sometime later, either after he watched her bleed and cry for several minutes or at her funeral, and he would apologise and hide. Or hide and then apologise. Of course, then they would eventually start talking again, and he would completely forget everything he had heard…

Fuck, it would've been way easier if he had just thrown the door at her…

It was too late for that now, she reminded herself, resuming writing the letter to the blonde. She had to focus on the task at hand and then, while waiting for Luna's reply, try to figure out some way to fix this. Or at least come up with a variety of ideas that didn't stink and then ask Luna for her thoughts on them.

Speaking of Luna, she still found it quite funny that it was a small, radish doll that had reminded her of the girl. The doll had been a gift from a Muggle friend of hers, someone who had thought that it was particularly cute and was smart enough to know that Hermione would most likely always find it appealing.

It was rather cute, she reminded herself, staring at the stuffed vegetable, with big, anime-style eyes and a broad grin; it was the cutest vegetable she had ever seen.

Task at hand…back to the task at hand!

After fervently writing the letter, going over it to search for spelling mistakes or sentences that made no sense, she was finally rather pleased with the results. Folding it up and tucking it into an envelope, she shuffled through her belongings for suitable clothes to wear for her journey to the Owlery; she couldn't possibly go in her pyjamas.

After ensuring that her body was suitably dressed, she made the long trek towards the Owlery, hearing nothing but the faint echoes of the students hiding in the Great Hall. Aside from those echoes, faint and barely audible, the school was silent. Winter always seemed to create this unfathomable, all consuming silence that threatened to overwhelm any single being that dared to step within its presence. It wasn't deathly, but it was not always calming either.

It reminded her heavily of the silence before a storm, and she wondered just how come she never noticed the silence before their storm. Draco had become far more open with her, far more relaxed, but she never experienced the foreshadowing silence. Never went through the calm, the ease that came before a heavy blow hit.

Perhaps she had been too immersed in her feelings for him; her dreams, her wishes, her need to forever be caught up in his embrace.

Now, unless she fixed it, she would never feel his arms around her.

Wiping away at the, in her opinion, useless tears, she continued to walk through the cold corridors, trying to take a small pleasure in the sensation of the warm sunlight on her skin each time she passed by a window. It was difficult; she knew that nothing would ever be able to replace the feeling of his warm flesh against hers, but she also knew that, if things went well, she would, once again, feel it.

She just had to remain logical and optimistic, that's all. Look on the bright side of life, right?

'_I just hope Harry's happy now,'_ she thought bitterly. It had taken her a while, but finally, her thoughts had turned to the dark-haired boy who just couldn't keep to himself. He just had to have the answers to everything, just had to know why Hermione was not being 'herself.'

'_Maybe if he had just let me be, this wouldn't be happening,'_ she snarled inwardly, resisting the urge to send Harry a Howler to tell him just what she had thought about his inquiry that morning.

She knew, however, that no matter how much blame she put on him, no matter how much she tried to make it look like he was at fault, she knew that it was hers. If she had just been honest with everyone, if just hadn't given a damn about what her friends thought, if she had just told Draco her original reasons behind her actions, maybe this wouldn't be happening.

It was, though, and she could only do everything in her willpower to try and repair the situation.

She didn't want to lose him.

The Owlery was bustling with life, the owls hooting and shifting, a few fluttering about in spite of their nocturnal nature. It was strange, to not see Hedwig in the Owlery; her beautiful white feathers glistening in the sunlight. Hermione missed that owl and her little quirks; she had been such a good friend to them.

She tied the letter to a school barn owl, gave it a quick pat on the head and small snack, before stepping back and watching it take flight. Through the high, open windows, she watched as its body grew smaller and smaller as it increased the distance between them. She prayed that when Luna received the letter, she was not in the same room as Harry or the others; she really couldn't deal with another question-answer session with Harry.

Turning to leave, she was surprised to find that she was no longer alone; standing in the doorway, arms crossed, questioning gaze on his face, was Blaise Zabini.

Now, in most cases, she would feel rather nervous being stuck alone and wandless with a Slytherin; despite the war and the outcomes, they still harboured a form of deep hatred towards her and her fellow Gryffindors. However, the handsome African-Italian before her was someone she, well…trusted.

Trust was not particularly the right word, but it was the closest thing that came to describing the relationship between herself and Blaise. They had an understanding, they did not hate each other, did not attack each other. In fact, they almost seemed to view each other as equals, scholarly speaking.

This, however, did not answer the questions rising in her mind.

'_Did Blaise follow me here? He doesn't have a letter. What does he want?'_

She fought back the instinctive urge to gnaw on her lower lip in apprehension. She did not like this situation at all, despite their understanding.

"Granger," he said with a nod.

"Zabini," she replied.

Hoping that this was nothing but an accidental meeting, she wiped her hands on her pants and began making her way to the door.

"I have a question for you."

She stopped in her tracks, confused clearly displayed on her face. The anxiety came back anew, and she had to shove her hands into her jeans' pockets to prevent herself from wringing them. She satisfied her needs by chewing on the inside of her cheek, something that was not too noticeable.

"What is it?" Her voice was steady. Good. Never show a weakness to an enemy, or in this case, a Slytherin.

He stood away from the door; arms still crossed, and covered a little bit of the distance between them. His dark eyes glowed with an unreadable emotion, lips thinned into a straight line.

"What did you do to Draco?"

Taken aback, she was momentarily dazed and found herself unable to reply, or even consider a reply. It was then, in her confusion, that she became able to read his gaze. It was worry that showed in his eyes. He was worried about Draco, willing to do anything to find out just what or who had changed his friend.

Swallowing thickly, trying to figure out exactly how to answer his questions, she began by avoiding the topic. "What do you mean?"

She swore that she almost – almost! – saw him roll his eyes in exasperation. "You know exactly what I mean, Granger. Yesterday, he was like some happy fool and today…I have never seen him angrier or more hurt in the entire time I've known him. It's like something has sucked out all of the joy and replaced it with hate and sadness."

It was a good way of putting, she admitted. When she had last seen him that morning, he seemed like someone who would never be able to feel happiness again. Like someone who had had his heart torn out and wasn't sure whether to be angry or sad about it.

She wanted to answer his questions, she truly did, because a part of her felt that if Blaise knew the answer, he might be able to help her in her quest to heal the wounds she had inflicted. However, she wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do. They were barely friends, hardly knew each other, hell, they were barely considered to be acquaintances. Now, all of a sudden, he wanted her to answer these questions that, although he had no idea, were unbelievably personal.

She wanted his help; he knew Draco far better than she did, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

"I…I don't know," she replied lamely, lowering her eyes in hopes to avoid his searching gaze.

Blaise simply stood and stared at her, his gaze scrutinizing, boring into her head as though he was trying to read her mind. She wondered, vaguely, if he was attempting to perform Occlumency on her, and immediately began to put up barriers.

When she lifted her head, when she dared glance in his direction, the look in his eyes told her everything. He knew…he knew that she was lying. Something told her that he did not what she was hiding, but he knew that she was not telling him the truth.

"Granger," he said softly, uncrossing his arms, easing his stance just a bit, "I think that you should know something very important."

She inclined her head, gesturing to him that she had heard his words and was ready to hear more. That was another lie. She was terrified to hear just what he might have to say to her. What if he reprimanded her? What if he told her that Draco was a lost cause? What if he ordered her to stay as far away from Draco as possible and forget all about him and their time spent together?

"Draco…is an eccentric individual. He has lived a life nobody should have to experience, but it isn't the worst life out there. You must have noticed that he doesn't seem to be able to keep many close friends." He paused, waiting for the flicker of her eyes to signal that she understood. "While his life is not the worst, you must realize that he has lived a life with virtually no love. People used his for his family's influence; his parents were pawns, as well, his father, a callous man who wanted his son to be a cold, emotionless killing machine. His mother was the only source of love he had. I've only ever seen him truly smile when he speaks about his mother.

"Then you came along…I wasn't sure when it happened, it might have happened at the beginning of this year, maybe it started shortly after the end of the Second War. I'm not sure, but he started to show a new side of himself. He looked less…lonely. He had a slightly brighter glow about him, seemed to want to smile just a bit more. There were days where you infuriated him, where he seemed to want to do nothing but strangle you. But, ever since you showed up in his life, he seems to feel just a bit more loved."

She fought back the physical response to Blaise's words. Draco…Draco had been happier with her around? Even when they were at each other's throats, ready to kill each other over the simplest task, he was happier near her? What…what did she do? What was so great about her…?

"I don't know what you do, but you've been doing something really good. He cares about you, you know. He won't admit to us, but I've had my suspicions for some time now. When he stood up for you the other day, breaking off his friendship with Pansy because of what she had said about you, if proved my suspicions right.

"Now…I don't know what has recently happened between you two, but I know that you must have done something. He's hurting more than I've ever seen him hurting." His eyes hardened as he stared at her, watching Hermione begin gnawing on her lip.

"I…"

He shoved his hands into his pockets and cut her off, "Don't say anything. You didn't mean it; you guys were angry, et cetera, et cetera. I don't want to hear your excuses. I want you to do something about it. Draco may not be the greatest wizard in the world, but he isn't the worst, either. He's a good guy who will do anything to protect those he loves."

This time, she couldn't hold back her reaction. Her heart thundered wildly in her chest at the notion that Draco Malfoy could possibly be in love with her. It was impossible; it made no sense whatsoever. What had she done to have caused him to fall in love with her? When in the world did this happen? She knew that he cared about her, at least enough to worry about her safety, but she had had no idea that his feelings went this far.

How had Blaise noticed this before her? How had he figured it all out before, from what she could determine, Draco even had?

'_Damn, he's a perceptive bitch, isn't he?'_ she thought.

If he had noticed her shocked reaction, he paid no heed to it. He continued to speak as though her body had not visibly jerked at the words he had spoken. "Draco, he deserves to be loved. He's one of the greatest guys I know, and you should be doing everything in your willpower to keep in. Do you understand me? Don't lose him, no matter what you do. Do your damned hardest to keep him. He deserves to be happy, and, even though we've had our differences in the past, so do you. Go after him and don't fuck up.

"I don't know what you did, what you said, but you have to fix it, because I swear, if you pretended to return the feelings and wound up hurting him, I'll hex you until so much you'll wish to be killed."

She shuddered at the thought; Blaise cared so much about Draco that he was willing to kill her if she hurt him. It terrified her and made her heart leap with joy at the same time. For someone to care so much about another…

Did Draco feel the same way about her? Was he willing to kill someone for her?

He _had_ nearly killed Ron, hadn't he?

Gods…Gods, what _had_ she done?

"Granger, you understand everything I'm saying to you, right?"

He waited patiently for her answer, his voice sounding far calmer, far lighter than the voice of someone who had just threatened to kill another. It was strange, perhaps something she might laugh at when looking back at the situation, but at this point in time, she was too worried and terrified to say even consider his actions comical.

She understood…she understood exactly what he meant.

"Yes," she said softly, afraid that if her voice were any louder, he could feel the guilt and pain in it. "I understand you."

"Good. Go after him Hermione and treat him right. I promise you that you won't regret it one bit." He turned to go and just as he reached the door, she called out to him.

"Wait…wait," she lowered her voice. "Can…can you tell me…where is Draco?"

His brow lifted at the use of Draco's first name; it was the first time he had ever heard the Muggle-Born say it. It soundly oddly comforting, as though she was meant to say it.

"I don't know where he is right now. I know I saw him prowling the halls, shouting at everyone in sight and knocking over as many things as he could. He was really pissed." Blaise paused, as though considering whether to say the next words or not. "And…he was crying."

"Oh Gods," she muttered, running her hands over her face, fighting back the sudden onslaught of tears. "I made him cry…I can't…I did…Shit, shit, shit!"

"I told you, Granger," Blaise said, as emotionless as ever, "treat him right and you won't regret. Hurt him and you'll hurt just as badly."

He turned to go but glanced at her one last time. Finally…his façade fell. His cool mask faded away and, through her tears, she saw his true feelings. His face did not lie; he was worrying for her just as much as he worried about Draco.

He walked away, leaving her alone in the Owlery with her regrets, guilt, and pain.

The words '_Go after him…love him…he needs you…'_ danced in the wind.

* * *

"What did you want to see us about, mate?"

It was a normal yet strange occurrence, to see a sea of redheaded boys, and girl, sitting in the backyard of the Weasley household. They were hiding under the trees, as far from the house as possible, as though afraid that Ron might be lurking and listening in.

Harry ran his hands through his impossibly unruly hair, dragging his digits down his face in obvious exhaustion. He hadn't slept last night, had dealt with Hermione this morning, and then had to deal with the questions for the past three hours before he could finally get everyone involved alone.

So, in spite of the cold, they had all gathered outside.

"I saw Hermione this morning," Harry said quietly, leaning closer to the group so that they could hear.

George grinned broadly at this, but Bill sighed heavily in response. "You know, as much as I wanted to help my brother out, isn't it just a bit intrusive to just appear in Hermione's room and force her to answer your questions? I know that, when this was just an idea, I was for it, but…I don't know, I kind of feel guilty now."

"Don't tell me that you're _finally_ getting conscience," George said with a elbow to Bill's rib.

Charlie sighed through his scarf and rolled his eyes. "Bill makes sense; while a part of me really, really wants the answers , which is the only reason I'm here right now, it is just a bit much to actually go through with the idea."

Ginny pursed her lips, as though considering both sides presented. "Look, we can all feel guilty after we hear what Harry has to say, okay? For now, what's done is done, so let's just get this over with. I'm bloody freezing out here!"

"Gin's right," Percy admitted. His voice was barely audible through the three scarves the pansy – as dubbed by George – had put on in fear of cold and frostbite. "Let's just get this over with and deal with our emotions after. For all we know, Hermione might really be in love with Malfoy."

"I suppose…"

"So, let's hear it Harry, tell us what you learnt." George leaned forward with excitement, eyes aglow with mischief as he waited for the telltale words.

"I can tell you what I can, but I can't say everything," Harry finally said. He shoved his hands into his pockets, willing them to warm up as much as possible as he considered his next words. "Hermione and I…the only way we were able to answer each other's questions truthfully was by performing a minor version of an Unbreakable Vow on each other. I can't tell you all what was said and neither can she, or there will be consequences."

Ginny huffed loudly, getting ready to stand up and leave. "So why did you make us come out here? It's fucking cold and I don't see the point of you making us come out here just so you can tell us you can't tell us anything."

"Let him continue, Gin," Charlie said, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder in an attempt to ease her temper. "Those vows can be easily avoided, by simply rewording things, you know that, right? He doesn't have to give us the answers she gave, but he can give us hints, or tell us what she didn't say."

"Oh…oh, that's true, I didn't think of that," she admitted. "Sorry Harry, go on, please."

"It's all right," he replied. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "What I can tell you is that it's good news. She still can't stand him…Ron still has a chance with her. She is not doing what everyone thought that she was doing, do you guys understand?"

"So, basically…she's not staying for Malfoy?"

"Exactly, Charlie. She has no feelings for him whatsoever. She … let me think of a way to say it differently from the way she said it…she said it's like volunteer work. He has a past, I can't say what, but she…well, you know Hermione. She has to fix everyone and try to make people better. She's not always very good at it, but it's in her nature. I suppose Malfoy is her pastime, her current project. Make him better and she feels better, you know?"

"Essentially," Percy summed up, "she pities him because of a previous experience he has had, and she wants to make him feel better. Right?"

"Exactly."

"So she's not in love with the slimy git?" Ginny asked, eyes shinning with joy. "She doesn't love him at all? She's probably more in love with Ron than him?"

"From what I could tell, yes…well, no to the first two questions and yes to last. She cares a lot about Ron." Harry grinned and promptly stopped as a breezed chilled his teeth.

"Well…that's a perfectly good reason to get us all out here," George said. "So, let's go and tell Ron."

"I can't."

George rounded on Harry, eyes wide with confusion and annoyance. "What do you mean you can't?"

"It's part of the Vow; I can't say a thing to Ron until Hermione feels ready to do it. That'll only happen once we get back to school. Besides, I think it might be good for her to tell him the truth," Harry replied.

"So we still have to deal with Ron's sulking and whining?" Charlie asked with a heavy sigh.

"She never said that nobody else couldn't tell Ron," Harry pointed out with a grin. "All you have to do is tell him what I said and the Vow will still be intact."

"Are you sure he'll believe us?" Apprehension was laced in Bill's voice. "I mean, as least you, he can understand. But the rest of us? Will he really believe what we tell him?"

"It doesn't hurt to try," Percy replied. "I vote that Charlie does it."

"Why me?"

"Because you're perfect," George pointed out.

The Weasley children began to get to their feet, each of them discussing who would be first to break the good news to Ron.

"What if he doesn't believe me?" Ginny whined when Charlie pointed to her. "He might try to hex me."

"But you're a better shot than him," Percy added.

"Don't gang up on me just because I'm a girl!" she huffed, tripping Percy, sending him flying face first into the snow.

"We didn't say anything like that!" George said, getting as far as possible from Ginny.

Harry walked towards the house with a smile on his face. The Vow was intact, the family was happy, and Hermione wasn't in love with Malfoy.

Life was good.

"Harry."

He turned to see Bill standing beside him, watching the scene before him.

"Yeah?"

"What if Hermione had told you that she was in love with Malfoy?"

He arched a brow, wondering where the eldest Weasley was going with this. "What do you mean?"

"What would you have done if her answer had been the exact opposite? Would you have stopped being her friend just because she fell in love with him? Just because you hate his guts?"

"I…I don't know," Harry admitted, lowering his head. "To be honest, I'd be really angry…I mean, Malfoy put us through hell and back at Hogwarts and I can't really forgive him for a lot of things he has said and done to us. Just because he magically changed sides during the War doesn't mean anything."

Bill hesitated, about to say something to Harry, but paused and considered his words. He shook his head, as though to say '_No, I can't say that"_ and exhaled quietly. "Harry…are you sure it would be bad? I know that he isn't the greatest wizard in the world, but … if she loves him, can it be that bad?"

"For Ron, it will…Ron would go absolutely insane," Harry pointed out.

"But that's because Ron's an immature git who doesn't know how to get or keep a girl. He stands on the fucking sidelines and watches and pants over her. He doesn't grow balls and asks her out." Bill added, rather harshly, too, Harry noticed.

"I know," Harry admitted, "but he's still my friend, and so is Hermione. I just don't know if I'd be able to deal with it. It'd just be really strange. He's Malfoy, for goodness sake!"

Bill turned his eyes away from Harry, watching as George began to playfully wrestle with Charlie while Percy and Ginny pelted each other with snowballs. "I know that he's a Malfoy; it's going to be stuck with him for the rest of his life. But, I do know what it's like to have your family and friends hate the person you love. Remember how much Mum and Gin _hated_ Fleur? I didn't let them know this, but it hurt so much to see that they couldn't just be open enough to understand that, so long as I was happy, they could be happy."

"That was different, the rest of us were in love with her, and she wasn't a childhood enemy," Harry pointed out lamely.

"So? It shouldn't matter who it is, so long as they love each other," Bill said rather loudly, grateful for the ruckus the others made. "That's what I'm trying to get at. If she were really in love with him, would you be able to understand that? Would it really be as horrible as you're making it sound like? She's your friend, hell, she's probably the closest thing to a sister you'll ever have, and you should only care about her happiness. That's what's important."

"But how can Malfoy, out of all the people in the world, make her happy?" Harry blurted out. "It would be impossible for them to love each other!"

Sighing softly, Bill shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. "This is where you're still immature Harry. Love…love is something that just…works. In spite of all of the arguments, in spite of one's past, when two people are in love, they are supposed to be the happiest people in the world. Having friends who don't approve kind of puts a damper on the happiness, though, especially when they're your best friends." He stepped away, glancing up to the sun, watching it dance it the sky, the rays causing the snow to glitter like a thousand diamonds. "Hermione's a good person with a good heart and she isn't stupid. But Harry, you can't try to control her forever. She will fall in love with someone one day, maybe it'll be Malfoy, maybe some random Muggle, maybe even Ron, but you can't try to force her to fall for Ron. Let her do it her way; she has a right to do what she wants, too."

Harry opened his mouth, fully intending to tell Bill exactly what he thought of his words when the man turned to look at him, silencing the younger man with a gaze.

"Harry…let her love who she wants to love; you're not her father, you're her best friend. Show her you'll care about her no matter what decision she makes. No one should be forced to choose between the one they love and their friends."

He wanted to fight back, wanted to yell at Bill and tell him he was wrong, he wasn't making Hermione choose…but, the one thing that made him keep his silence was that…he knew that Bill was right.

* * *

**Here we go. That took a lot less time than the other chapter, didn't it? I just couldn't keep you guys waiting and I couldn't wait to keep writing!!!**

**So, what is Hermione going to do? Will she find a way to repair her relationship? Will Harry try to fix what he did? Will he accept her love with Draco? What's Bill getting at? Does he know the truth? Has he figured it all out?**

**So many questions!!!!!!**

**Don't worry, this isn't the end!! Not at all!!! There are still more chapters to come and I want to finish them as soon as possible (University is telling me that I am going to have a LOT of reading to do!).**

**Constructive criticism/editing – very much welcome; I don't always have time to look over my work and I appreciate it if someone posts any mistakes I made in their comments.**

**Flames – used to um…flame the desire Blaise and Bill have to help Draco and Hermione (I suddenly thought of a crack pairing; Blaise and Bill. Lmao. Can you imagine THAT?!)**

**Adoration – increases my ego. By a lot. By a FREAKING LOT! I love it. I feel like an Ancient Greek Deity before 31 B.C. (before Rome when omnomnomnom I eat you up, Greece!)**

**Anyways, please feel free to review as much as possible (by the way, I must say this here: DO NOT PUT A COMPLETED STORY AS A STORY ALERT! It's annoying the hell out of me when I get fifty-million Story Alert notices in my e-mails for oneshots!).**

**Oh, one more thing: 600 FREAKING REVIEWS!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**Until the next chapter! **


	22. If Only I Could Turn Back Time

**Chapter 21**

**If Only I Could Turn Back Time**

It took one long, painfully slow-moving day, in order for them to finally meet. She hadn't see hide nor hair of Draco since that faithful morning and was, secretly, grateful for it. She didn't know if she could withstand the pain in her heart for much longer.

Finally, after much waiting, the letter had returned with the words, '_Meet me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow, at 3p.m.'_

So, once quarter after two had passed, Hermione had bundled herself up in the warmest clothing she had and made her way to their destination. She would have normally enjoyed the day, watching the sunlight play with the snow, the way the younger students were running about, creating snowball fights, snowmen and participating in a vast amount of snow-related activities. But her mind was elsewhere, straying into the castle, into the room where he stayed. She really was a horrible person for everything she'd done…

Lost in her thoughts, she did not even recognize the building until someone called out to her. Turning around, she was met with the always-smiling face of Luna Lovegood.

"Let's have a seat, grab some Butterbeers, and then we'll talk," the blonde said as Hermione opened her mouth.

They did exactly that and, once Hermione had had several sips of her Butterbeer, Luna tucked her hand under her chin and looked over the brunette.

"Tell everything…from the beginning to end."

It was odd; retelling everything to a girl Hermione had only become best friends with during the past two years. She hardly knew Luna's secrets and yet Luna was the holder of some of the most terrifying secrets Hermione ever had. Hell, Hermione hated to admit it, but Luna felt more like a friend than Harry or Ron ever had.

She told her everything, or at least everything that she could, beginning with her situation with Harry. Luna's face never changed, no matter what was said or how it was said. Her face remained a constant cool, emotionless mask from the beginning to end.

When Hermione finally finished, she looked to Luna expectantly, as though praying that the girl had every answer for her problem.

"You know…I saw this Muggle movie the other day," Luna said suddenly, taking a sip of her drink.

'_What does that have anything to do with this?'_ Hermione thought in confusion. She wanted to voice the words, but feared that they might offend the blonde.

"It was a really good movie," Luna continued, "lots of action, these cars that turned into robots, and a really attractive main character. It was a lot of fun to watch; I never knew Muggle movies could be so amazing!" Her eyes lit up at the memory and she grinned broadly. "Well…at the beginning of that movie, this guy said something that, well, explains Harry's actions."

'_I never asked about why Harry did what he did?'_ Hermione thought.

"I know, I know," Luna said with a wave of her hand, "you never asked about Harry, but I know you want to. This is not like him; he's usually been on your side whenever Ron's gone…well, angry-Ron-like. But this is a little different." She took another sip before continuing. "Anyway, so, at the beginning of the movie, the main guy's friend turns to him and says 'Bros before hoes.' That, I think, sums up your relationship, your position in this situation."

"What?" Hermione choked out, clearly at a loss for words. "But…what…what the hell does that saying have to do with this?"

Luna couldn't help but chuckle at Hermione's response, eyes glowing with mischief and knowledge. "Well…it's important for you to understand where Harry's coming from. Anyway, in this situation, there are two possible explanations for why Harry's being the way he is, and that quote explains them. The first one is that Harry and Ron are bros, correct? I assume being 'bros' means that they're best mates, because the two guys in the movie looked like best mates. Anyway, Ron and Harry are best mates, and, in this situation, you could be the hoe. The hoe, at least in the movie, is a woman."

Hermione's goggled at Luna's explanation, wondering if Luna was aware of just what she was saying.

"Luna…I don't think 'hoe' is an appropriate word…" she stammered out.

"But…it goes so well with the example," Luna sighed out. "Can I just use it for now? I don't know what else might be able to describe what you are to them."

"Fine, fine, but only for now…you do understand what it means, don't you?"

Pursing her lips, she blonde looked around for a moment as she tried to find an answer. Smiling broadly, she turned back to the brunette. "Not at all!"

'_Oh dear…she has no clue what she's saying…'_ Hermione sighed inwardly, mentally face-palming herself.

"So, can I continue?" Luna asked and, without waiting for a response, she did so anyway. "Well…in this case, Harry and Ron are bros and you're the hoe, meaning that, in this case, Ron comes before you. Although, it kind of sounds really harsh for you, doesn't it? That's why I have the second explanation. In this case, Harry, Ron, and you could all be bros and Draco could be the hoe."

Choking on the Butterbeer she had just attempted to swallow, Hermione coughed loudly, trying her hardest not to laugh at the notion of Draco being a 'hoe.' Swallowing, trying her hardest to get air into her lungs, she slammed her fist against her chest. "You…I can't believe it…you just called Draco Malfoy a _hoe_!"

"Only for the example," Luna said, clearly unable to understand just why Hermione was fighting back laughter. "So," she continued, completely ignoring Hermione's inability to breathe, "in this case, you're a bro and Draco's a hoe. Now, according to the guy in the movie, it's a code among bros that they must always choose each other before a hoe. Right now, according to Ron and Harry, your fellow bros, you are breaking that code by spending time with your hoe as opposed to them. Do you understand?"

Finally able to breathe again, she wiped away a few stray tears before slowly nodding. "Essentially, Harry and Ron think that I should choose them before Draco, and the only reason I would choose Draco is because he's a hoe, right?"

"Precisely!"

"But…I suppose that's why Harry wants an answer. He wants to see if Draco really is a 'hoe' or not…but that still doesn't make it right!" Hermione huffed with indignation.

"I know that," Luna said, "but, it's what he thinks is right. That's what's important here; his views of right and wrong are different from yours, most likely misconstrued by that silly code. Honestly, I would always choose a hoe before a bro; it just sounds like they'd be more fun."

"Luna!" Hermione cried in astonishment. "I can't believe you just said that!" Laughter threatened to bubble back up her throat and it took all of her willpower not to burst into giggles.

"Well…it's true." Shrugging her shoulders, Luna sighed before taking a deep swig of her Butterbeer. "So…tell me, what did you want to get Draco for Christmas?"

Was Luna purposely avoiding the subject? Did she really have no important answers for her? Was she unable to help her? Sighing softly in defeat, she rubbed her eyes a few times before deciding to go along with Luna; usually the girl had something up her sleeve, didn't she?

"I…I wasn't really sure. I wanted to get him something sentimental…"

"You have no clue? But it's so close! You only have six days left."

"Five, today's almost over," Hermione pointed out before heaving another sigh. "I was…well…it was a little bit too sentimental, maybe a bit silly…but…I had an idea the other day." Luna nodded for Hermione to continue. "Well…in order for Dennis to give us back the picture he had of us kissing under the mistletoe, he wanted to take pictures of us decorating the Common Room."

Luna grinned suddenly. "Dennis took a picture of you two kissing? It must be one wonderfully erotic picture."

Hermione wasn't sure if she should be angry or happy to hear those words. She figured that confusion might be the best way to go and decided not to breach that topic. "I thought that…it might be a nice idea to frame those pictures and give them to Draco as a Christmas present, you know…as a memento that he is allowed to have a good Christmas."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Well…isn't it a way to show him how much you really love him, too? You want him to remember this for the rest of his life, remember how much you two loved and cared about each other. He may go off and marry some other woman one day, you might fall in love with another guy, but you'll always have this beautiful memory. And don't lie to me, I know that you're falling for him; it's too obvious. You wouldn't be asking for my help if you weren't in love with him."

'_I love and hate how perceptive you are, Luna,'_ Hermione thought as a blush crept over her cheeks.

"I…I suppose…" Hermione admitted quietly as the blush darkened. "I mean…well…I really do care about him and I came into this situation with some of the worst thoughts in mind. I should have just been honest…I should have just stayed behind I 100% wanted to, not because a good quarter of my brain was feeling pity for him and wanted to help him. But…but I suppose it was for the greater good, right? Because…because I am falling in love with him and…and I don't want to lose him."

She swore she saw Luna giving her a knowing smile, a proud smile, and she could swear that her eyes glowed with mirth. Had Luna known this all along? Had she figured it all out from the get-go and was just waiting for Hermione and Draco to find out for themselves?

"Precisely," Luna said, voice softer now. "So, you want to give him pictures of the two of you decorating. Why not a whole series of pictures? Not just the ones Dennis has taken already."

"What do you mean?" Hermione was genuinely perplexed. How was she supposed to take more pictures when they were intended to help heal their relationship?

Looking around, Luna sighed and chugged the rest of her Butterbeer, signalling for Hermione to do the same. Once done, she stood up and tugged on her jacket.

"Wait…are you leaving already?"

Sending her a knowing smile, Luna shook her head. "No, I just don't want to say what I have say with so many people around. Don't want them getting word, you know." She stood and waited while Hermione remained seated before huffing and putting her hands on her hips, perhaps in imitation of a certain Ginny Weasley when irritated. "Hermione, you should really put your jacket on and follow me if you want my help. It's cold out and you can't possibly hear what I have to say when I'm outside and you're in here."

A faint blush covered her cheeks and the brunette scrambled to yank on her coat and scarf, bundling up as fast as possible. "Sorry," she mumbled once she was ready to leave.

She wasn't sure if Luna heard her or not, the blonde simply began making her way through the crowd and to the door. Once outside, she led her away from Hogsmeade, heading for a small clearing nearby. Close enough to see the picturesque village, but far enough that nobody from in-town would be able to hear. Hermione also noted that the clearing held little hiding spots; they would see or hear anyone before they were able to get within earshot.

'_Luna, you are bloody brilliant, sometimes,'_ Hermione thought with a grin.

Waving her wand, setting up a heating charm on a particularly large rock, Luna sat down and patted the space beside her. "Sit and then we'll talk."

Tugging the scarf just a little higher, she sat down on the surprisingly and pleasantly warm surface. "Alright, what is it that you couldn't say back at the Three Broomsticks?"

Smiling, Luna leaned closer and whispered, "I know how you can get pictures of everything you and Draco have done so far."

"E…everything?" Hermione swore her voice almost squeaked as vivid crimson flooded her cheeks.

"Everything," Luna said slowly, drawing out the word for emphasis. "Of course, I don't have them _yet_."

"Yet?" Hermione swore her face was flaming as red as a tomato. What was Luna talking about? Had a stalker been following Hermione and Draco this whole time? Had someone been secretly taking pictures of them? How had they gotten into the Head's Common Room? Who was it? Where were they? What the hell was going on?

"Well, no, not yet, but this is where _this_ comes into play." At the word 'this,' Luna slowly pulled out a small, golden hourglass that was strung on a long, thin, gold chain and Hermione's eyes widened in recognition.

"Where the hell did you get a Time-Turner?"

Luna's grin broadened. "I've always told you that my father likes to collect and construct various things. This, he just happened to find one day."

Find her arse, Hermione couldn't help but think that Luna's father had stolen the object off of some unknowing visitor or passerby. But, keeping her tongue in check, she simply nodded as though this made perfectly good sense. But who would leave a Time-Turner just lying around, for anyone to find?

This did not make a lot of sense, but she just had to go along with it.

"So…he just found a Time-Turner and…what do you want me to do with it?"

Sighing, she swore she saw Luna roll her eyes in minor exasperation. "Honestly, Hermione, I thought you were the brightest witch of our time. You are going to use it to go back in time."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Hermione cried, astonished that Luna would even suggest such a thing. "What's going back in time going to help with anything?"

"You're going to get those pictures we don't have yet."

Holding up her hand, hoping that it would stop Luna's lunacy, she shut her eyes in an attempt to cool her nerves and temper and try to think clearly enough. Swallowing thickly, she took in several deep breaths and willed her mind to calm down. "So…essentially…you want me to go back in time and stalk Draco and myself?" Luna nodded. "I…I see where you're going with this, I really do. It's a good idea…I think Draco will be very happy with this as a gift, but…I don't have a camera. How is that going to work?"

"Think, Hermione…who would be perfect to go with you?"

Closing her eyes, she leaned back and put her mind to work as Luna sat and hummed a lovely little song.

* * *

"You have got to be shitting me."

"No, I swear that I am not. We know everything."

Charlie sat on the end of Ron's bed, having been the one to draw the short straw this afternoon. He was rather pleased at this moment; Ron was reacting just as he hoped. This was the first non-angry, non-despairing reaction from Ron that they had gotten all winter break.

"So…Harry managed to sneak back and talk to her? What did he find out? She better not be snogging that damn ferret; I'll kill him," he added with a snarl.

Looking over his younger brother, Charlie couldn't help but think that Ron would hardly make a dent in the blond man. Having been refusing food for most of the break, Ron's weight had dropped. Lack of sleep gave him dark circles under his eyes, and he swore that Ron was even paler than before. He did not look up to a fight at this moment.

Rubbing his hands on his thighs, Charlie continued to tell Ron everything Harry had told them. He used different wording, afraid that if he used the same, the Vow just might come back to bit Harry in the arse. He carefully explained that Hermione was doing this more or less out of pity than anything and that she felt no feelings for Draco.

Ron's expression gradually grew more and more relieved as Charlie spoke. He saw the lines fade away, the exhaustion falling away to reveal the face that had been hiding behind the anger. The face that Charlie knew so well.

When he was done, Ron was sitting forward, leaning as close as possible to Charlie, excitement etched into his face. "So…she doesn't love Malfoy? Not one bit?"

"Not at all," Charlie confirmed with a nod.

"Well…that's great! I still have a chance with her!" This was the happiest tone the younger man had used all vacation and it made Charlie's heart sore. However, at the same time, a part of it plummeted to his stomach.

Slowly getting to his feet, Charlie turned to his brother. "Are you going to come out of hiding now and act less like an arse?"

"Of course!" Ron literally leapt to his feet, moving to his dresser to find some more appropriate clothes. "If she doesn't love him, it means that she probably loves me. She's such a kind girl, doing this just to make someone happy. I should have known…should have realized. Once we get back, I'll apologise for everything! I acted like a real prat, eh?"

Charlie nodded, praying that Ron's own words wouldn't send him back into another episode. "Unfortunately."

"But I thought that she was shagging Malfoy at the time, so it's a good excuse. Now that I know she isn't, I just have to say I'm sorry and she'll forgive me. She's so nice like that."

Charlie wanted to shake his head and say no, he wanted to tell Ron that he was wrong in thinking that way, but he couldn't bring himself to cause even more harm this Christmas. This was supposed to be a time of joy, of family, of love and acceptance, and Ron was destroying all of those things. However, putting Ron in his place could cause so much trouble that Charlie would never hear the end of it.

Slowly getting up from his seat on the edge of Ron's bed, Charlie shrugged his shoulders and stretched his back. "Well…I suppose you could try, but what happens, happens."

Halfway through removing his shirt, Ron paused and stared dumbly at Charlie. "What do you mean?'

Sighing, mentally hitting himself for having spoken in such a way, Charlie turned to look at his younger sibling. "Well…just because you apologise doesn't mean that Hermione's going to forgive you right away. From what I heard, you called her a whore."

Fumbling in order to quickly put on his shirt, he shoved his head out of the whole and stammered in response. "But…but she knows…I wasn't in my right mind; I was angry. She'll understand…I know she will. She'll listen to me and understand…"

Running a freckled hand over his face, Charlie exhaled for the thousandth time within the past hour. "Honestly, Ron…I don't know." He reached the door, grasping the doorknob, wanting to get the hell out before Ron started going ballistic. "All I know is…well, I hate to repeat someone else but…would it be all that bad if Hermione had fallen in love with Malfoy? Are you going to have to decide who she falls in love with her whole life? You're not her father, Ronald, and neither is Harry…you guys have to learn to let her live her life the way that she wants to."

Turning his back to his younger brother, he stepped through the door and quietly shut it, permanently placing a barrier between the siblings.

* * *

They walked briskly down the hallway, headed for the one place where no one would be able to catch them. Behind the two, a younger figure followed, scrambling along, mumbling about rules and being caught.

"Are you sure? I…I don't know…I've never done this before. Is it even legal?"

Letting out a loud breath, Hermione spun around to face the mousy-haired Dennis Creevey. "Dennis, it is legal, so long as we're not tampering with the past, so you don't have to be afraid. There is nothing wrong with what we're doing, so calm down." A small, calming smile made its way onto her face. "Alright?"

Twisting his hands, he looked down at his feet and when he looked back up, Hermione and Luna had continued on their journey to the Room of Requirement. "Ah…wait! Wait!" he cried, scrambling to catch up to them. "I…I don't know what to do. How do you do this? What does it feel like? Does it hurt?"

Luna added an extra skip to her step as she half-turned to the boy. "Don't worry; Hermione and I will explain everything once we get there."

Nodding, he continued to follow, biting back the stammered words and questions. He knew why he was doing this; he owed Hermione his life and had vowed to repay her deed in whichever way she chose. He knew that it involved his camera because it hung comfortably around his neck, a soothing presence amidst the confusion and anxiety that swamped his mind.

He also knew that this involved going back in time…

How the hell they were going to accomplish that, he had no idea. Hell, he wasn't even sure _why_ they were going back in time. Was he supposed to take pictures of something? Were they planning on stalking someone?

Pausing, he watched as Hermione paced in front of a seemingly solid wall three times before a door materialized out of it. Opening it, she walked in and her companions quickly followed suit. He heard the door disappear on the wall outside.

Spinning around in the room that resembled a study, Hermione grinned at her companions. "Okay…Dennis, let me explain everything to you."

Nodding, he sat down on a nearby couch, ready to listen to every little thing she said.

"We're going back in time, with _this_," she held up the Time-Turner, "to take pictures."

Luna fought back a giggle, which Dennis found to be particularly odd considering he situation. However, this was Luna…she had a tendency to be naturally queer.

"Pictures of…"

"Let me continue," Hermione cut him off with a stern look. "Recently…I got into a really big row with Draco." Any smile on her face faded away and pain caused her eyes to swim with unshed tears. She then proceeded to tell Dennis the edited version of what happened between her and Draco. Once done, she was swiping away stray tears and choking back on her words.

Pain tore through Dennis's heart at the sight and he wanted to desperately reach out and hold her just as she had held him every time he cried. He wanted to be the one to help this time…to be the one to make it go away. Everyone had done so much for him, held him, helped him, gave him so much of their love and they never asked for any of it back.

He no longer cared what he had to do; he wanted to make her happy.

"So…So Luna and I came up with this idea…for how we can fix it," she said softly, rubbing at her face.

Luna moved to stand beside Hermione, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Squeezing it gently, she turned to Dennis. "We're going to show Draco just how much she really does love him. Hermione and you are going to go back in time, use Harry's Invisibility Cloak, and take pictures of him and Hermione together. We'll use the pictures to show that what Draco heard was wrong. He'll have pictures of every moment they were together, from the beginning." She smiled softly. "It's going to be his Christmas present."

"Oh, really?" Dennis said with a smile. "That's amazing! What a great idea! Hermione, I think he'll love it. Let's do it! But…hold on." Something didn't add up…there was something nagging him, at the back of his head. "I…are we going to have to relive the past two-to-three weeks?"

"I don't…"

"No," Hermione said. "Time-Turners can be used to forward in the past as well. We'll go back to the first day, take what we need to take, and then move ahead to the next. If it comes down to it, we can just spend the night in the Room of Requirement."

"But…how will we know what times we have to go to?"

"Half guess, half knowledge," Hermione replied. "I have a good idea of what times we did certain things, like the day we went shopping. Some days, we might just have to hide out for a while in the Heads' Room, just in case."

A bright blush suddenly covered Dennis's cheeks as he formulated the next question. "I won't…we won't see…you know…anything I shouldn't be seeing?"

Hermione's cheeks matched his in colour and she cleared her throat louder than necessary. "No…not at all…if there was anything like that, I will remember and make sure that you don't…see anything."

"Does this mean that you and Draco have…?" he stopped abruptly, unable to speak the words in his mind.

The blush darkened on her cheeks and he wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment due to it being true, or insult. "No…we have _not_," she answered rather louder than necessary.

Nodding slowly, he rubbed his face fervently, as though it might remove the blush from his cheeks. "Okay…alright…"

Shaking her head, trying to get certain images out of her mind, Hermione turned to Luna. "Okay…I think we're ready." Pulling out her wand, she tapped the Time-Turner three times. "It set it to take us back by weeks, not hours. One tap sets it to hours, two taps for days, and three for weeks," she added, answering the question in Dennis's eyes.

"You've…you've done this before?"

Scratching her head, she nodded. "Third Year," she answered. "It was the only way for me to deal with all of my classes, especially since some were at the same time as each other."

He shook his head in understanding, getting to his feet to stand beside her when she motioned for him to do so. "So…does it hurt?"

"No," she replied with a smile, taking the chain and draping it around both of their necks. "It just feels a little funny, but it doesn't hurt."

"Will we reappear in the same spot?"

"No; it sends you to a safe area, like an empty closet or something, to avoid people from getting caught." She shrugged. "I'm not sure how it knows it, but it just seems to know not to let us appear in the worst possible situation." She recalled that when she had done it with Harry, they had appeared in a broom closet. Secure and out of the way.

"Are you two ready?" Luna asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, remember; be back at the Room of Requirement, on December 19th, at 4:45 pm. No sooner than that, but try not to be more than ten minutes late."

"Why? Why can't we be more than ten minutes late? Is that a bad thing?" Dennis asked rather loudly. "If we're more than ten minutes late, do we die? Do we get trapped in the past?"

Fighting back the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione patted the top of his head. "No, it just means that Luna doesn't want to be waiting around all day for us. Besides, if we're missing for a whole day, I'm pretty sure that the school will raise the alarm. Ten minutes if a good leeway time."

"Oh…okay," he said, voice quieting. "Sorry…I don't know a lot of stuff…"

"It's okay, you're still young and learning." Hermione resisted the urge to pinch his cheek. "Now, let's go…I have to fix this and you owe me a big favour."

Just as he nodded his head, Hermione turned the hourglass two times counter-clockwise. Luna stepped back and waved. Her face was a mixture of contradictions, a smile combined with worry and fear in her eyes. Just as Dennis realized this, the room began to swirl around in a myriad of colours.

He felt as though he were traveling at high speed, everything moving around him like a movie on rewind. Except this rewind was in turbo mode, colours swirling about, people, figures, moving at an unbelievably fast pace, and his body remained still for the whole process.

Finally, he felt a strange jerk and everything around him solidified and slowed down. The Room of Requirement materialized around them, the exact same setting as before, only Luna was no longer present.

Slowly, Hermione unwrapped the chain from around their necks and stuffed it into the pocket of her jacket. Dennis continued to stare around in awe, almost as though he couldn't believe what he saw.

"But…this is the same place as before!" he gasped. "Are you sure we really traveled through time? Maybe Luna just left the room."

Glancing at her digital watch, Hermione shook her head. "No, we are currently Friday, December 5th, 2008." Sighing softly, she suddenly recognized a problem. "We're a few days ahead of schedule…"

"How many days?" Dennis managed to choke out, fear slowly taking hold.

"Only one, actually," she replied, tapping her wand against the Time-Turner. "There, it's set for days. We just have to go ahead by one day; Draco and I made snow angels on Saturday. Nothing picture worthy happened tonight." She draped the chain back around their necks. "I've switched it back to hours; we just have to go ahead by twenty-one."

She turned the hourglass clockwise twenty-one times and they were thrust forward in time, watching the blurs move ahead as opposed to backwards. Dennis was gradually feeling dizzier, the swirl of colours dancing in his vision, making him unable to focus on one solid object.

This time, he jerked slightly when they stopped and placed a hand to his face in an attempt to stop the dizziness. Rubbing his eyes, he shook his head several times and was barely aware of Hermione removing the chain and putting back the Time-Turner.

"There we go. We have about half an hour to get the cloak and head outside," she said. "Harry and Ron should be out in the castle, so we'll have to avoid them."

Nodding, Dennis shook away the swirls of colour in his vision and focused on the solid objects in front of him. "O…okay"

She headed for the door and paused when she realized that he was not following her. Turning around, she glanced at him. "Is something wrong?"

"I was just…well, wondering how we're supposed to get into the Gryffindor Common Room." He shifted on the spot, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

She grinned broadly. "This is where you come in." Turning back to the door, she beckoned for him to follow. "Come on, we don't have all day."

He scrambled to the door of the Room of Requirement, hoping that this journey would be able to fix everything.

* * *

**Chapter 21 is now completed! Still not done the story though, sooooooo, you'll have to wait for the next update.**

**I'm trying to write as much as possible, but I have a lot of reading for University. Not much homework, but a lot of reading to do, so I can't always be writing on the train or at school.**

**At least my soccer season is over now (which kind of sucks, because my team half gave up on us last night, which really, really sucks for those who came to win. But that's another story)**

**Review overview:**

**Constructive criticism/editing: very much welcome. I love it when people help me find mistakes in my work. **

**Adoration: Absolutely adore it. Makes my ego twenty-times bigger. I love you guys!**

**Flames: surprisingly, I haven't gotten any so far…-.- which is rare considering most Harry Potter fics usually get one annoying flamer. Meh, even if one appears now, I'll still use it to fuel the fires of passion between Hermione and Draco. **

**So yeah….here we go!!! **

**Next chapter, I'll try to post another recipe. I just don't have one available right now. I'll try to go for something Thanksgiving wise, seeing as Canadian Thanksgiving is closer than Halloween or Christmas right now.**

**Thank you guys for all of your support and love!!! It's because of you that I keep writing (and because I love writing, haha).**

**See ya!**


	23. Footsteps of the Past

**Chapter 22**

**Footsteps of the Past**

"Be quiet!"

"I'm trying!"

"Well try harder!"

Dennis and Hermione stood near the end of a corridor, flattened against the wall as they tried, in vain, to hear whether somebody was coming or not. Although it did not particularly matter whether they came across a First Year or not, mainly in Dennis's case, Hermione did not need to hear about rumours spreading about as to how she was in two places at once.

Not again.

Sighing softly, she clasped a hand to Dennis's mouth in an attempt to quiet his breathing. This only succeeded in getting his eyes to bug and his hands to flail in fear, as though he worried that she was trying to suffocate him.

"Stop it," she hissed. "Stop making noise or I will hex you into the next century, you understand?"

Nodding, Dennis bit back a whimper as he witnessed the brutal side of Hermione Granger.

Closing her eyes in relief, she opened them and pushed Dennis over, edging closer to the corner of the wall. Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned her head past the corner, enabling her to get a view of the corridor.

"Nobody," she sighed with relief, moving out into the open. "Let's go."

They moved like this the entire way, precarious steps, cautious whispers, and extreme care as to what they did or said and how loud it was done or spoken. They couldn't risk being caught, at all.

Once they finally managed to get to the Gryffindor Tower, however, they were faced with another problem.

"Do you remember the password?"

"What?"

She now knew exactly how Snape had felt whenever he had been forced to come face-to-face with somebody like Ron. She desperately wanted to smack Dennis, but resisted the urge in fear of the consequences.

"The password," she repeated, "do you remember the password?"

Dennis bit his lip as he attempted to recall the password from two weeks prior. Squeezing his eyes, he fought to remember while Hermione resisted the urge to glare and tap her foot impatiently.

She couldn't really blame him, while she desperately wanted to; she had just pulled him into this mess an hour ago, so she couldn't honestly expect him to instantly remember the password.

"I…can't remember," he sighed in defeat. "Sorry, Hermione."

Again, she wanted to hit him but bit back the urge. Instead, she ruffled his hair. "It's okay; we'll just wait until someone comes along and says the password; we should be close enough to hear it."

Nodding, he stared down at his feet, trying to recall the word that would grant them access.

They wait for a good ten minutes before Dennis suddenly cried out. She instantly reached out and covered his mouth with her hand, stifling the sound in fear of being caught.

"Hush!"

"Mmmmfffff," Dennis said, voice muffled against her hand.

"What?"

"Mmmm mmmfffff!!"

"Oh…oh, I'm sorry!" she whispered hastily, removing her hand from his mouth. "What were you trying to say?"

Taking in a deep breath, he turned to her with a grin. "I remember the password."

"Perfect!" She smiled broadly and pulled him into a hug. "Let's go!"

They rushed over to the door, Hermione praying that neither Ron nor Harry were in the Tower, Dennis spoke the password and the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open to grant them entrance.

"You first," she muttered to Dennis. "That way, I can try to hide behind you."

The younger boy grinned back at her. "That won't work; you're taller than me and your hair isn't that hard to hide."

"Jerk," she whispered back, nudging his back.

Lady Luck was on their side today; there were a few First Years huddled in a corner, studying, and a few other students were reading by the fire, backs to the twosome. Dennis led the way, staying as quiet as possible, and they gradually made their way up the staircase towards the boys' tower.

"Which one is his bed?" she asked as they opened the door and searched the room for any signs of life.

"I think it's this one," Dennis replied, moving to a nearby bed. "Where would he keep it?"

Looking around the room, she paused mid-action and turned to the younger boy. "I think he would probably have it in his trunk; he usually packs it ahead of time."

Nodding, Dennis searched through the trunk and found exactly what he needed. Hermione materialized at his side and reached into the case to pull out a piece of parchment. "We'll need this too."

"A piece of parchment?"

Smiling at Dennis, she waved it in the air. "It's more than just that; it's a map of the entire school. The Marauder's Map. I'll show you how to use it only if you promise not to 'recognize' it whenever Harry has it out, okay?"

Dennis grinned. "Okay."

"All right, we're done here." She waved her wand and everything went back into its place in the trunk. "Let's put this away and get going. We have maybe…fifteen minutes to head outside."

"Hermione," Dennis asked as he slid the trunk back into its spot, "how do you know exactly what time you'll be outside with Draco?"

She grinned again and winked. "I know that we went out shortly after lunch, which means it was probably around 2:00. I also know that he went back to the school before dark, and I got back just around supper time; we spent some time at the Three Broomsticks. So, I figure that we were probably outside at around two, since it took some time to convince him to go outside."

"Oh, I suppose that makes sense."

Hermione headed towards the door just as they heard voices outside. Spinning around, she grabbed a hold of Dennis and yanked the Invisibility Cloak out of his hands. Throwing it over them, she gave him a look that told him to be quiet and follow her. Nodding, he sealed his lips and kept them shut as the door swung open, revealing Seamus, Harry, and Neville, all talking animatedly.

"I'll say, I can't believe ye, Dennis," Seamus said loudly, moving over to the bed across from Harry's, flopping down on it. "Ye're with Susan and didna tell anyone!"

"We wanted to keep it a secret," replied the tall, dark-haired Neville Longbottom, whose face was a lovely shade of red.

"I never thought I'd catch you snogging someone in the halls," Harry admitted.

"Not as bad as when I caught ye and Ginny," Seamus added with a wink towards the brunet.

Hermione tried to drown out the conversation as she noticed that the door was pleasantly open. She and Dennis began to inch their way towards the door and we're almost there when…

"Oy, Harry, if we're going to talk about sex, could ye at least close the door?" Seamus asked

"Oh…Shit, forgot," Harry answered, getting up to close the door.

Seizing the moment, Hermione yanked onto Dennis's shirt and pulled him behind her, sprinting out of the door just as Harry appeared behind them and shut it. They just barely made it out, Dennis's foot just avoiding being crushed between the wooden door and frame.

Sighing heavily, she ran a hand over her brow and turned to Dennis. "That was close. Can you imagine what they would do if they found you and I together in a boys' dormitory?"

Dennis blushed darkly. "I, uh…can they still feel us if we're wearing this?"

"Yes," she said, keeping her voice low as laughter roared within the room next to them. "People can bump into us, feel us, hear us, but they can't see us."

"So we have to be extra careful, don't we?"

"Yes." She tugged on his arm, pulling him down the stairs. "Let's go. Remember, be as quiet as possible when people are around."

He nodded for the millionth time that day and followed her down the stairs. Fortunately, they only had to wait about five minutes before the door to the Tower was open and they managed to sneak through before it was shut again. Once in the hall, Hermione pulled out the parchment, tapped her wand against it, and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Dennis gaped as an entire map of Hogwarts materialized onto it, including dots representing every single being in the castle, living or dead.

"It's a good thing you thought of it," Dennis said with a grin.

"Yes; it'll help us a lot. If we see that certain halls are empty, we won't have to worry about making noise or not." She gestured to a few passages. "We'll take this route; it's quick but there isn't much traffic there. Let's hurry, I want to get as many pictures as possible and as quickly as possible."

They rushed through the school, quite pleased to note that the majority of the students were either studying in the library or outside enjoying the good weather. Twice they had to slow down and ease through a corridor, but other than that it was smooth sailing.

Until they got outside and remembered one very important thing.

"Snow!" whispered Dennis. "How are we supposed to walk through the snow without making any tracks?"

"By using this fancy little trick I learnt in Charms," Hermione replied with a broad grin. With a wave of her wand and a few well-chosen words, she pointed the wooden object to their feet and they were covered in a blue hue. "It's an Untraceable Charm. It can be used for a variety of things, one of which is charming ones feet to ensure that they don't leave tracks. It's a perfect charm for sneaking or spying."

"Wow!" gasped Dennis, face glowing with amazement and pride. "You're amazing!"

"Thank you," she said softly. "Okay…I see Draco and I, let's go." She pointed off to the side, where the past version of herself and Draco were trudging through the snow, talking loudly.

"Is it weird, seeing your past self?" Dennis asked as they walked, looking down in astonishment to see that their feet left no marks; it was as though they just hovered lightly on the snow.

"Yes and no," she replied. "Back in Third Year, Harry and I had to go back and watch our past selves, so it was weird then. I suppose it's not _as_ weird now, but it's still quite odd."

She watched as past Hermione instructed Draco on how to build a snowman. She smiled softly at the sight, remembering that day. It had been such a lovely day, playing in the snow, listening to his laughter as they talked…

Rubbing her eyes, she whispered to Dennis, "Turn off the flash and take as many pictures as possible. We'll go through them later."

Dennis did just that. As they constructed their snowman, Dennis and Hermione moved about, taking as many pictures as possible while Hermione's mind slowly drifted back to that day.

She loved the way Draco had laughed…the carefree sound of his happiness echoing in the wind. It had been so beautiful to see his face glow in the sunlight, no lines of worry, no tension tightening his shoulders; nothing but childish happiness.

She wanted to see him smile again, wanted to make him smile again. She wanted to tell him how much she loved his smile, how much she ached for his touch, how much she needed his love.

She wanted to tell him that she could never deny her feelings, that, even though this started off with the wrong idea in mind, she was, undoubtedly, falling in love with him. Nothing she could say or do would ever take that away from her.

She wanted to tell him how thankful she was…if she had never felt the slightest inkling of pity she would not have fallen for him.

Distracted by Dennis's sudden muffled chuckle, she turned to watch as her past-self and Draco rolled in the snow; he had just pulled her in after she tried to help him up. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she watched them laugh and tease, push and pull, as they fought to get out of the snow and remain angry with one another.

Oh…in the name of Godric Gryffindor, she loved Draco Malfoy.

The remainder of the day passed by without event; they followed the couple around until Draco left past-Hermione at the Three Broomsticks. Hermione had then signalled to Dennis for them to head back. At the Heads' Tower, they relaxed, waiting for the next event to happen.

Sitting on the couch, having thrown the Cloak to the ground, Hermione sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

She turned to Dennis, who was sitting in a nearby armchair, reading the Marauder's Map with avid fascination.

"Y…yeah. I'm fine; just tired."

Dennis's eyes told no lies; he knew that something was wrong with her but wasn't going to pester her. He wanted to know, wanted to help, but wasn't just how to go about it. Letting out a quiet breath, he looked down at the Map.

"Well," he let out a low whistle, "why don't you look at that."

Arching a brow, she leaned forward with curiosity, trying to find what Dennis found so fascinating. "What is it?"

He grinned broadly and pointed to the boys' bathroom on the fourth floor. "If I'm not mistaken, Susan Bones just happens to be a girl."

"Wow," Hermione gaped, face flushing darkly. "Well…Harry and Seamus weren't lying earlier."

There were two dots in the bathroom, quite close to a wall, identified as Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom.

"Holy crap…to be honest, I never thought Neville would ever have sex before he turned twenty," Hermione admitted quietly. "Ah…well….good for him, I suppose…"

"I wonder who else we can find on this thing."

They spent the better part of an hour trying to find 'hidden' couples. Some were expected, such as Ginny and Harry, who were hiding along a fifth floor corridor, and others were rather astonishing.

"I had no idea Lavender and Parvati were like that!" Dennis gaped.

"We don't know for sure," Hermione replied, although the redness of her face told otherwise. "I mean…they're just alone in a girls' washroom."

"The dots are _really_ close together," he pointed out.

"Yeah, and the dot of my past-self is getting really close to the Tower."

It took only a few seconds before the Cloak was thrown over them and the Map picked up. Hiding in a corner, she watched her past-self making hot chocolate, knowing exactly what was running through her mind at the time.

Draco…

He seemed to always be on her mind…

It was a while longer before they even had something picture-worthy, and by that time, past-Hermione was sleeping deeply on the couch, mumbling something about unicorn hair. Roughly an hour or so after she had fallen asleep, the door to the Tower opened and in came Draco.

Hermione watched as Draco walked in and paused mid-step, surprise showing on his face as he saw her past-self sleeping on the couch. Then, the next he did brought tears to her eyes.

He heated up the hot chocolate and collapsed onto the nearest armchair as he drank it, closing his eyes with definite mirth and pleasure as he drank the beverage. He seemed to revel in flavour and she blushed darkly as the look on his face reminded her so much of whenever they kissed. Relaxed and pleased, aroused and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

The tears fell when she watched him lean over and cover her body with the blanket, and poured harder when he gently cupped her face with his hand, thumb stroking over her cheek.

She saw the apology in his eyes, saw the guilt tearing through him, and she bit back several loud sobs.

Dennis, all the while, was taking picture after picture, capturing the tender moment on film forever. He took a series as Draco picked up the discarded novel and sat back, reading until his body slumped forward and the novel fell to his lap as sleep overwhelmed him.

Dennis sat for a while, holding Hermione in his arms as she cried, heart aching for the man she loved and had just lost.

* * *

They spent the night in the Room of Requirement; both exhausted from the Time travel and the following during the day. They were fortunate enough to not have to be in the Heads' Tower until later the next day, so they spent the majority of the day lounging and sneaking down to the kitchens for food.

Finally, as late evening approached, Hermione and Dennis stood in the middle of the Room of Requirement, ready to move ahead in time and capture the love and happiness between Hermione and Draco.

The days were like such; they would stalk the past-couple, sneaking around to take as many images as possible, and then spending a few hours either in the kitchens or the Room of Requirement, resting and eating when necessary. It was strange; it felt as though time was either passing by very slowly or extremely fast, which was the case.

One of the most entertaining days was when Hermione and Draco had gone shopping; Dennis had spent the majority of the time chuckling, earning death glares from Hermione, who wanted him to stay as quiet as possible. She, on the other hand, while not glaring, would smile as though constantly caught in a pleasant reverie. Her eyes would shine, her lips curling upwards as she relived every single pleasant memory she had had with Draco.

As they photographed them moving through the halls with the Christmas, she sighed softly.

She wanted more memories with Draco…many more.

"So, that's how you guys got stuck," Dennis said later on, after taking several pictures of the couple kissing under the mistletoe.

"It wasn't very pleasant, for the most part," Hermione admitted, sitting on one of the beds in the Room of Requirement. "As you saw, we argued for half of the time."

"And kissed for the other half," he replied with laugh, dodging the pillow she tossed at him.

"It was horrible."

"Really?" Dennis lowered himself so that the back of the sofa hid most of his body. "It looked like you really enjoyed it, to be honest."

"Careful or I'm going to hex you," she warned, twirling her wand in the air.

"I'll tell McGonagall," he retorted.

"Who will be really, really angry to find out we traveled back in time without notifying anyone," Hermione pointed out.

Sighing heavily, he nodded. "You're right." Looking around the room, he flopped back on the couch. "So...what did Draco do when he left you after your 'supper'?"

"No idea," she admitted. Although…she did have an idea…but she wasn't about to say it to Dennis; even though he had matured quite a bit in the past few years, he was still at least three years younger than her and the idea of discussing sex with him was just…not right.

"Oh…" Looking at the ceiling, trying to find some kind of conversation starter, he thought back over the past couple of hours. "It was really funny when you threw all of that stuff at him."

"He was being a real jerk," she said with a small grin. "He deserved it…demanding that I make him a sandwich."

Dennis laughed and she soon joined. It was funny, watching her past-self and Draco arguing, finally realizing just how silly and infantile their arguments were. It was hilarious; to see how they grow so livid with each other over the littlest things.

"Well, you got him," Dennis laughed.

"Yeah…I did…" she said, trailing off. She just hoped that there would be more of those silly arguments in the future.

* * *

They decidedly skipped recapturing the decoration of the tree; Dennis had admitted that he still had copies of the photos and was more than willing to give them to Hermione in order to create her Christmas present. Instead, they jumped ahead a few more days and snuck into the Heads' Tower early that morning when blue fire played a vital part in the establishment of Hermione and Draco's relationship.

Dennis was fanning himself for the most part while Hermione blushed throughout the entire scene. She couldn't believe that she and Draco had been able to resist each other with such thick, sexual tension in the air. How they had managed to walk away was unknown to her; they must have very strong wills.

Afterwards, Dennis teased her for a good hour in the Room of Requirement, before she huffed and essentially forced the Time Turner's chain around his neck and pushed them ahead two more days.

Tuesday was to be a vital day…

"What happened between you and Draco that's so important?" Dennis asked as they walked along the silent halls, heading to hide in the Heads' Tower.

"It was when we first accepted our feelings," she replied quietly, voice barely choking on the pain that threatened to go through her. Even now, what felt like a week or two, since the event, she felt unbearable guilt and pain for what had transpired between them.

It was, in all fact, her fault, and she was to bear that fault and guilt until she could fix things.

But, she was going to show Draco that she wasn't fixing things for the sake of her charity event. With today's photos, he was going to see…he would see just what she really felt for him. Then he would know, he would realize just how much she actually cared for him.

How hard she was falling for him…

"How?"

"You'll see," she replied, unable to describe just what had happened that day. It would hurt too much; it would add fuel to the guilt, to remember just how much Draco had cared about her safety.

The Marauder's Map was proving to be vital in their excursions and photo-shooting. Every time they reached the Heads' Tower, they would wait for a period of time until whoever was in the Common Room would leave. It would help them find and use the perfect opportunities to get in and out of rooms.

She was fortunate that Aphrodite was either one of two things: very brilliant or very dense. She had not said a word to the sight of two differently clothed Hermiones going into the Tower at different times.

It was mid-afternoon and they were fortunate enough that Draco was in the Great Hall with masses of other students; Hermione recalled that there had been a head count that afternoon to avoid students being caught in the storm.

Sighing softly, she said the password to Aphrodite, having thrown off the Cloak, and they entered the Tower, relaxing at the table or on the sofa.

"It's extremely important that we get as many pictures today as possible," she said to Dennis after a brief period of silence.

"Because it's important?"

"Very important," she replied, glancing over to see him munching on a muffin that he had wished for from the fridge. "Don't make a mess, okay? Draco doesn't like messes."

"So I've heard." He waved his wand, cleaning up the crumbs from both the counter and floor.

She jumped to her feet when Draco's dot appeared nearby on the Map, and threw the Cloak over herself and Dennis, who stuffed the last piece of muffin in his mouth. They waited near the fireplace for the door to open, showing a much stressed Draco Malfoy.

He was muttering curses, running his hands over his face, through his hair, unable to sit still and relax. It was quite obvious that he was quite distressed over something or another.

He couldn't sit still, pacing, prowling, back and forth, as antsy as a caged tiger. His head turned this way and that at the slightest noises, and every time he caught sight of the storm raging outside, she swore his rage and distress rose even more.

She twisted her hands as she watched him punch the wall in fury, unable to contain the emotions any longer. Gods…he cared about her so much…

They then watched as her past-self stepped in the Tower and the row began. It started off with a bang and gradually increased in fervour and passion until Hermione was covering her face with shame and Dennis was photographing away.

Finally…the words were spoken, and she cried for the millionth time. She cried as her past-self laughed, and cried even harder as she watched herself go up to him and apologise, choking on sobs as he tried to come up with a solution other than admitting his love. Watched him put up the defences that she tore down when she pulled him down to capture his lips in a passionate, love-filled kiss.

She watched Dennis mouth the word 'Wow' as the kiss grew in intensity and passion, as Draco devoured her mouth in a kiss that was filled with an overwhelming amount of pent-up sexual tension. She watched and she cried, aching for more memories like this, more kisses like that…

He took pictures and fanned himself, and, when the alarm sounded, he turned to give Hermione a look and was met with the sight of her crying and smiling at the same time.

Reaching over, Dennis gently rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but she just gestured to the camera. He wanted to hug her like she had him, to comfort her like she had done to him when he had sobbed, wanted to tell her that everything was okay the same way she had done so whenever he missed his brother. But he couldn't…she didn't want him to, wanted him to focus on the task at hand.

Later…later he would let them switch roles; he would let her cry in his arms. He would make her feel better.

They were lucky that the alarms were so loud; Dennis let out a rather loud guffaw when McGonagall stepped into the room and found Hermione and Draco locked in a passionate embrace. Hermione slapped a hand over Dennis's mouth and they continued to watch.

As the events rolled out, they hid by the Infirmary, Dennis holding her as she cried openly but quietly, waiting for time to pass and more photo opportunities to take place. By the time past-Dennis and past-Hermione – being carried by Draco – were brought into the wing, Hermione's tears had dried and her resolve hardened. She was tired of crying; she would stand strong and watch with a smile rather than a frown. These were pleasant memories and she wasn't going to let her stupidity get rid of that happiness.

* * *

The pictures afterwards were just as important, and they continued on with their job, waiting and leaping through time to capture every moment spent between Hermione and Draco, save for the day of their argument. They decidedly spent the latter part of the last day sleeping and relaxing in the Room of Requirement, the stress of the past few time-leaps and days bearing down on them. Not to mention that they had had to head back in time once more, to return the Marauder's Map and Invisibility Cloak to Harry's chamber.

Finally, Hermione decided that it would be best if they hid in the Room on the day they went back in time. Thinking, she got the room to change to the way it had been when Luna had created it, and they hid in a corner, under the Cloak, watching themselves discuss the Time traveling.

They watched as their past-bodies disappeared after the turning of the hourglass, and waited a moment before throwing the cloak off. Luna turned to them with a smile that made Hermione think of Dumbledore.

"How did it go?"

"Very well," Hermione replied, rubbing her eyes. "I'm kind of exhausted, but it's expected after so much time travel."

"Nobody caught you?" Luna reached out to take the Time-Turner from Hermione.

"No." Suddenly, Hermione reached forward and wrapped her arms around Luna. "Thank you…for everything."

Smiling against the mass of Hermione's hair, the blonde simply nodded her head. "It was my pleasure."

"And you too, Dennis," Hermione added, dragging the poor boy into the hug. "You guys did so much for me…"

Dennis grinned against her shoulder and glanced up at the brunette. "Well, you saved my life, and we care about you. We know that you would do the same for us."

Nodding, Hermione smiled broadly. "Yes…yes I would." Pulling away from the hug, she and the others moved to a nearby couch, where they discussed everything that had happened during the time-leaps.

"Dennis…can you somehow manage to develop those pictures right now? I just…I just want to get them and sort through them, you know," Hermione asked once everything else was done being discussed.

"Of course," he replied with a smile. "It takes two seconds."

Having never once studied magical cameras, Hermione was pleasantly surprised when Dennis pulled out his wand, tapped the camera, and it began to shoot out photographs very much in the manner of a printer. Within seconds, there was a large pile and a second one growing next to it.

"The great thing about these cameras is that I don't need film and I don't have to spent a week developing the pictures," Dennis said as more photos shot out.

"Can…can I touch right away?" Hermione asked. "I know with Muggle cameras you can't touch them or the image gets smudged or destroyed."

"Yes." Dennis nodded to the pictures. "Go ahead."

After Hermione began to inspect the pictures, Luna reached out and pulled a particularly steamy image from the new stack.

"Hermione!" she gasped with a laugh. "Wow! I never knew you really had it in you! This is bloody hot."

Blushing darkly, Hermione turned away from the image of her and Draco kissing in the Heads' Tower, her legs tightly wrapped around his waist. "I…yeah…thanks," she mumbled, now one hundred percent distracted from the pictures in front of her.

Taking the other stack, Luna began to look through them, her smile widening the more she looked through. "Hermione," she said softly, turning to her brown-haired friend. She waited for the girl to look over before continuing. "I know that he's going to love this."

Nodding slowly, Hermione began to collect all of the photos. "I hope so. I just have to go through them, get rid of any that are blurry, get only a fraction of us, or just look too silly. I…" she looked to both of her friends, smiling softly. "I can't possibly tell you how thankful I am for your help."

Dennis pocketed his wand, the photos finally done being 'developed,' and smiled over to her. "It was no problem. Like I said, you would do the same for us. Besides, you did say I owed you."

Hermione transfigured a nearby book into a folder and began packing the photos into it. "I know…it's just, this means so much to me. Really…"

"You just have to let us know every single detail when you give him the album," Luna said. "It'll be payment enough."

"I…really?" The twosome nodded. "You two are amazing," she sighed. "Really…I don't think Harry or Ron would have done the same thing."

Luna stood from the couch, brushing off her skirt. "Harry probably would have, but very reluctantly."

Dennis nodded, following Luna's movements. "Yeah. He would have probably complained the whole time, but he would help you."

Uncertainty flitted across Hermione's face as she held the folder to her chest. "I don't know," she replied, getting up to move towards the door. "Lately…it just seems that he wouldn't do much to help me."

Luna, at the door, leaned against the wall with a knowing smile. "You'll always be Harry's bro, Hermione, don't forget that. He still cares about you a lot, but he just has a strange way of showing it sometimes."

"Bro?"

The women looked over to Dennis with matching grins. "According to Luna's theory," Hermione answered, "I'm Harry's bro and Draco is my ho."

At the look of Dennis's face, the two women burst into laughter, opening the door to head out. Rushing after them, Dennis stammered over various questions, wondering just how Draco happened to be a ho and when this happened.

Coughing through her laughter, Hermione lifted her hand to cover her mouth, and, without even noticing, a picture slipped from the folder and fluttered to the ground. They walked on, as though nothing had happened, trying their best to answer Dennis's questions.

As soon as their bodies and laughter disappeared from sight and sound, a shadow moved out from a side corridor, stepping into the faint light. Kneeling, a pale hand reached out to pick up the picture that had fallen.

It was one of Hermione gently cupping Draco's face, pulling him down, their lips a breadth away, eyes half-shut in preparation for a kiss. It did not look fake, did not look staged; the caring, the love, the passion in her eyes, was not at all fake. It was a picture of a woman who loved moving to kiss the man of her affections.

The hand holding the image shook and a few water droplets fell and hit the corner of the photograph. Folding the image and tucking it into a pocket, Draco Malfoy looked in the direction Hermione and her friends had gone, heart throbbing in pain and mind full of questions and doubts.

He didn't know what to believe anymore.

**There we go. 22 is done. If I go by my original planning, there should be about three chapters left, plus maybe an Epilogue.**

**I have been considering this for some time and, given the way I plan on ending this, there will be a sequel. This plot is the process of Hermione and Draco falling in love, the second story will be dealing with how to open up their love, and the Ron issue will finally be resolved.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I kind of rushed through some scenes, but it's mainly because I didn't feel like going through everything all over again. I had a different original ending too, which would have involved Draco and Hermione meeting and getting in a fight, but I preferred this one.**

**I hope this didn't feel too rushed or short for some of you. But, I did my best! I had to re-read through some earlier chapters to get the time-line and chronology of events perfect (I even created a chronology). I might have to go through a previous chapter though. In one chapter I said it was Friday, but it should have been Thursday. I think I looked at the 2009 calendar when this story is based off of the 2008 calendar.**

**So…I'm going to do my review overview and then gift you all with a recipe!**

**Review overview:**

**Adoration ******** makes my ego bigger and will always be more than appreciated. It also helps me write chapters faster.**

**Flames ******** so far there are none, but if I do get one, I will use it to…well, fuel Hermione's determination to make things better with Draco.**

**Critical criticism/Editing ******** very much loved. I don't always have time to go through the chapters once I've written them due to school work or because I just want to post it ASAP. So I love it when you show me the mistakes in your reviews.**

**RECIPE!!!!**

**Because Canadian Thanksgiving is in a few weeks…**

**Pumpkin Pie Crisp**

**Crisp Topping **

1 cup (250 mL) oats ¾ cup (175 mL) dark brown sugar, packed

½ cup (125 mL) pecans, chopped 2 tbsp (30 mL) All-Purpose flour

½ tsp (2mL) cinnamon 1/3 cup (75 mL) butter, melted

**Crust**

1 enveloped Robin Hood Flaky Pie Crust Mix (or, I suppose, you could either buy a pre-made crust or make one on your own)

**Filling**

1 can (14 oz/398 mL) pumpkin puree 1 cup (250 mL) dark brown sugar, packed

1 ¼ cups (300 mL) regular or 2% evaporated milk 2 eggs

1 tsp (5 mL) each; vanilla extract and cinnamon

½ tsp (2ml) each; ground ginger, ground nutmeg, and salt

**Directions**

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F (218 C)

**Topping**: Combine ingredients with a fork for topping. Reserve.

**Crust**: Make pie crust according to package directions. On a lightly floured surface, roll pastry to fit a 9" (23 cm) pie plate

Place dough in pie plate cutting excess dough. Roll dough under and flute the edges with your fingertips.

**Filling**: Whisk pumpkin puree, sugar, evaporated milk, eggs, and vanilla in a large bowl. Stir in remaining ingredients. Pour into prepared pie plate.

Bake in preheated oven for 15 minutes, reduce heat to 350 F (180 C) and bake for 45 minutes.

Add reserved topping and bake for an additional 20 minutes. Remove from oven and cool before serving.

Tip: serve with freshly whipped cream or a scoop of vanilla ice cream if desired.

**Sounds good, eh? I'm not the hugest pumpkin pie fan, but this sounded really, really, really good when I saw it and I thought that it would be nice to share! **

**This recipe was found in Simply, Homemade Fall '09, on page 21 -**** it is a little booklet that was found in the recent edition of Canadian Reader's Digest. (Oct. 2009 edition, with that rather attractive looking hacker on the front).  
**

**I found several other recipes in there, and am currently debating as to which one to make for my 5-year anniversary this weekend.**

**I suppose I could ask you guys which sounds better!!!**

**Poll time! Please choose one! (If you are still reading, haha)**

**1-Dish Apple Streusel**

**Dark Chocolate Pecan Squares**

**Chocolate Tiramisu**

**Strawberry Lemon Slices**

**Pavlova (this is a kind of cake composed of a meringue base covered/filled with a custard-lemony-like filling made with yogurt, with berry sauce on top with a variety of berries on top of that (strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries). Type it into google to find a picture of it. It looks freaking good.**

**And if anyone wants the nutritional value of our pumpkin pie crisp, ask away (although you might not like the answer, haha!!) **

**Anyway!!!!! I'm done! Please review and tell me how much you love me! And if you try out any recipes I've listed so far, please let us (myself and the reviewers) know how they turned out (I don't have time to try every recipe I've listed!!)**

**See ya!**


	24. I Promise

**Chapter 23**

**I Promise...  
**

He wandered around in a dazed state for a few days, prowling the school, trapped between despair and fury, unable to find a stable balance of the two. His mind became a whirling of emotion, constant, overwhelming and infuriating.

He snapped at everyone and everything, including his friends, and he couldn't bring himself to stop. His temper was short, his mind always running at a million miles a second, heart constantly pounding against his ribs, and his blood roaring in his ears.

Pain became a part of him and he wasn't sure if he could withstand it anymore. It was ceaseless.

Blaise tried, from time to time, to help ease his aching fury, and at times succeeded, at least in only easing it. He never managed to completely remove it or direct Draco's mind towards other thoughts or possibilities. He tried getting the man to get revenge, telling him that it might be best if he shagged the hell out of every single female above the age of sixteen. Draco only muttered, in a rather disappointed voice, that he hadn't been able to shag the Gryffindor Princess before he caught her.

Goyle wrote him several letters, imploring him to try and return to normal. He tried reminding him that Hermione was a Gryffindor, and, even though the war had taught them several lessons, she was still not to be trusted. He reminded her that this was why she could never keep a man for a long period of time.

This only succeeded in further enraging Draco, more towards Goyle than anything else, unable to believe that someone might insult his beautiful Gryffindor, which caused him to turn his rage towards himself, angry for still loving her in spite of the circumstances.

Even Luna had written him a letter, although it was rather cryptic and only succeeded in confusing the hell out of Draco.

For now, he enjoyed prowling and snapping at everyone.

Burrowing his hands into his pockets, rather pleased with himself after having made a Second Year cry, he walked down a fifth floor corridor, glancing out of the windows to look at the rising moon.

"Damn it," he muttered, lifting a hand to run it through his hair, "what's the matter with me?"

He didn't understand…no matter what he tried to get rid of his rage, it remained a constant part of his mind and body. But, what made things worse was that, no matter how angry he got, no matter how much he wanted to cry, he couldn't help but secretly admit that he still loved the brown-haired siren.

There had to be something wrong with him.

Growling, he purposely pushed over a nearby knight, causing the armour to fall to the ground with a loud clatter and bang. Cursing, he kicked the helmet, sending it rolling down the hallway.

"Fuck! There is something wrong with me! Why am I thinking like this? Why do I want her to come to me and tell me that everything's okay? That she was lying, that she really does love me?" He gripped his head in despairing confusion, wanting to fall to his knees and scream.

"Why did she have to admit that this was all a trick?" he said, voice lowering as the anger receded into depression. "Why did she lie?"

"You know she loves you, right?"

Lifting his head at the sound of another voice, he was quite surprised to seen Blaise standing a few feet away from him, knight's helmet in hand.

"What?"

"You're destroying the whole school, Draco, with your anger," Blaise said softly, stepping forward. Waving his wand, the knight returned to its original position, and he placed the helmet back where it belonged. "You have to find a way to control your emotions."

"Don't jump subjects," Draco snapped, unable to understand just what Blaise was trying to get to.

"You're too angry; you can't control yourself, can't think clearly," Blaise repeated. "You've got to learn to control your emotions."

"And how do you expect me to do that?" the blond replied with a growl. "What do you want me to do? Just start to smile and laugh? Just pretend that nothing happened?"

"No." He couldn't understand how Blaise remained so calm throughout this; his emotions were bursting at the seams. "I want to you feel the pain but control it. You used to be amazing at it, used to be able to control your emotions with ease. I want you to go back to doing that. Stop letting them overwhelm you, and then I'll tell you everything I know and understand about Hermione Granger."

Rubbing his face in frustration, Draco bit back a growl and looked over to the brunet. "It's harder now…so much harder to ignore them."

"I know." Blaise reached out to touch the blond's shoulder. "But, you have to try."

Breathing deeply, Draco tried to remember how he used to create the cool façade of his previous self. He tried his hardest to push back the violent emotions, no matter how much he wanted to rant and rave until his body exploded. He wanted to attack and be attacked, to revel in the pain he was both giving and receiving.

But he couldn't do that, he realized. He couldn't go on like this…he was harming himself and others, all because some idiotic brunette had hurt him more than he had ever been hurt before. All because he was letting his emotions control and rule his mind and body.

He had to take control, he reminded himself. He had to stop letting something so primitive rule him.

Slowing his breathing, he began to go through every emotion swirling within him. He categorized them, filtered through them, and told himself how asinine he was being. Some, he had to push aside and lock into a box, others, he was able to completely obliterate from his mind.

Eventually, he opened his eyes, having not even realized he had closed them, and looked over to Blaise. The taller man smiled, dark eyes glistening in the light at the hardened look in Draco's eyes.

"Better?"

"Much," he replied with a sigh. "Thank you, Blaise." He reached out and grabbed the man's shoulders. "Thank you so much…if it weren't for you, I would have let them consume me."

Nodding, he began to lead Draco down the hallway, giving the man some time to revel in his new control over himself. Eventually, as they stopped in a stream of moonlight coming through a nearby window, he turned to face his best friend.

"Draco…I have to tell you something very important."

Moving his vision from the window to his friend, he nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Yeah?"

"I'm going to be very blunt right now; I'm not always the best with words concerning these matters, so I'm going to be honest and straightforward. Hermione is in love with you."

Draco visible paled and his body trembled slightly at the notion. "How do you know?" He had to push back the myriad of emotions threatening to blind him.

Moving to the window, Blaise looked out onto the yards. "It's in her eyes…in the way she talks about you. I spoke with her a few days ago, basically gave her shit for upsetting you. You know that she looked just as lost as you, right? She looked equally depressed." He ran a hand over his mouth before continuing. "She looked just as hurt as you. I'm not sure which of you has it worst; you got hurt by her, but she's living with the guilt that she hurt you so badly you weren't able to think clearly for four days.

"She's hurting, Draco…badly."

"What…what did you tell her?" He had to lean against the wall at this; he'd been so consumed by his feelings that he hadn't noticed hers. He hadn't considered that maybe she felt just as bad, if not worse. Hell, he hadn't even given her a chance to explain, he thought with a heavy sigh. He had just yelled and had not once let her talk.

It was because he thought that whatever would leave her mouth would be a lie.

Which, he mentally pointed out, was probably the truth. She probably would have lied in order to fix things as much as possible. Or she would have exaggerated the truth; it would have been one of the two.

"I told her not to ruin it," Blaise replied truthfully. "I told her not to destroy what you two have."

"And what's that?" he snapped without thinking.

Blaise just gave Draco a knowing smile and continued without answering. "I told her to fix whatever she did and that if she ever hurt you ever again, I would make sure she would never be able to go near you ever again."

"You threatened her?" Draco cried, distress and anger clearly etched onto his face.

Blaise's smile just broadened and he nodded. "In a way. I just told her not to take you for granted. I don't like seeing you hurt; you're my best friend, the only person who's stood by me in all of these years. The only person who ever stood up for my mother in spite of the rumours."

Shrugging, the brunet turned back to the window, enjoying the pleasant site of the snow-covered landscape. "Anyway, when I told her how hurt you were, she started to cry. Now, people cry for two things: a selfish reason, missing somebody or feeling mental anguish, or they cry because somebody else is and they just can't stand the sight or notion of it. She didn't cry when I threatened her, didn't once looked fazed when I gave her shit, but she started crying as soon as I told you were hurt. Don't you find that significant?"

"I…I suppose…"

"Also," Blaise continued, as though he never needed Draco's response in order for him to keep talking, "it was the look in her eyes. There was so much caring there, so much love that can't possibly be faked. I've watched you two from a distance, saw you guys play in the snow, saw you two shopping, and I've seen something that's both terrified and surprised me."

"What's that?"

"She loves you…unconditionally. She doesn't care whether you are angry, sad, whether you don't even want to be near her or not, she's just happy to be with you. Those smiles couldn't be faked; every touch was instinct, every laugh just as real as you and me. Nothing was staged, Draco, nothing at all."

"How…how do you know all of this?" Draco choked out, unable to stand without the support of the wall. "How…"

"I like to watch," Blaise replied softly. "I like to make sure that my friends aren't being hurt because of another person's ambitions."

"But…but…how do I know this is true?"

"Look at the picture in your pocket," Blaise said to Draco's surprise. "I know you have it; I've seen you looking at in your calm periods. Is her expression created by any form of acting? To be honest, I've never found Granger to be a very good actress."

Blushing darkly at being caught, Draco pressed a hand against his pocket, feeling the outline of the picture just under the lining of his pants.

"Draco…you have to talk to her. I know that you're beyond angry, that maybe right now, the last thing on your mind is to see and speak with her, but you have to do something. I think she'll come up with some way to fix this, but it can't just be one of you; the two of you have to work on it." Blaise reached over and pulled Draco into a brotherly embrace. "I know you love her too. Don't ruin this for either of you…go to her and let her talk, hear her, listen to her, and then…then tell her your answer. But don't give up on everything because of a bump in the road."

Pulling away from the hug, Blaise looked over his friend with a mix of pride, care, and sympathy. "I'll walk with you to the Heads' Tower, but from there on, you're on your own."

He nodded, unable to find words to express just how he felt at that moment. Amazed, angry, shocked, and hurt…such a variety of emotions that he had never felt at once in his entire life. It was overwhelming…but there was one thing that stood out from the rest, the one feeling that help calm the others.

Love.

* * *

It was perfect…so beautifully perfect. He would love it. He would pick it up, look it over and give her biggest smile ever and kiss her senseless.

If only they were on speaking terms right now.

Looking down at the two photo albums, Hermione sighed heavily. The discarded photos, most of which were blurry or useless, had been tossed into the fire. The photo albums, however, were filled to the brim, at least four pictures on a page, set in chronological order of the development of their relationship.

She loved it…loved the little captions she had added to some, loved the way the covers were homes of two of the most important images. She loved how it was set up, how it exuded love and passion, and she just hoped that he would listen to her long enough for her to shove the photo albums in his hands.

Letting out a quiet sigh, she placed the two albums on the kitchen counter and moved to the fridge, summoning a jug of water and a bagel with cream cheese on the side. While the bagel toasted, she sipped her water, pacing the room, unable to sit still.

What would he think when he saw the pictures? Would he be angry? Sad? Would it make him hate her even more?

So many questions and so few answers…it gave her a headache of gargantuan proportions.

What was he going to do?

Rubbing her eyes, she moved to cover her bagel with the cream cheese as she thought over the past few days.

It was now the 23rd, two days until Christmas, and Draco had not spoken a word to her. He avoided her, treating her like someone who had caught the plague. He had wanted absolutely nothing to do with her and she completely understood.

She had hurt him more than anyone else had ever hurt him.

What was she to do…?

Taking a bite, she took a deep breath and reminded herself that she had done everything she could so far. It was now up to him to listen to her, to receive her gift, and not walk away from her like he had been doing for the past few days.

She spun around when she heard the door opening, bagel and water forgotten as the man of her thoughts walked into the room. He was pale, gaunt, looking exhausted, as though he had experienced months of mental and physical torture.

Maybe that's what it felt like to have your heart ripped out from your chest…

He gave a glance and, after taking two steps in, surprised her by looking over to her a second time. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and continued on his journey to his room.

"D…Draco…?" Her voice was no louder than a quiet whisper, trembling in the silence.

He paused and turned his head towards her, telling her with her eyes that this had better be good or he was just going to lock himself in his room again.

"I…I know it's early…but," she twisted her hands in anxiety before reaching forward and grabbing the two photo albums, "but…I have your Christmas present…"

Arching a brow, he looked at her in clear confusion. She had gotten him something for Christmas in spite of everything? And she still wanted him to have it? The girl made no sense.

"But…but," she stammered, fighting for a stronger voice. "But," she said, voice growing stronger, "you have to listen to what I have to say before you can have it."

Both brows arched this time and he turned fully to her, leaning against the wall of the stairs, crossing his arms.

"What is it you have to say?"

Her heart leapt with joy; he was talking to her, he was willing to listen…oh, dear Gods, this was spectacular.

"I…I suppose it's an apology of the sorts," she said softly, putting down the photo albums. "I…I want to say I'm sorry…for everything."

"Sorry?" he snapped, unable to hear what she was saying. "You want to apologise? Do you think saying you're sorry will fix everything? The pain in my heart?"

"No!" she cried, moving forward. "No…I know that sorry won't and can't possibly fix anything. I know that saying something like that can't possibly repair the damage done; it never does. But at least it's a start, isn't it? I am sorry," she repeated. "I am sorry I lied to you in the beginning, I'm sorry that you had to hear what you heard, but I'm not sorry for spending the past few weeks with you."

What was she trying to say?

"Draco…I…I don't want to ever forget the time we've spent together. I know you might think that, since this was 'charity,' I might want to forget ever single second I was 'forced' to spend with you, but I want you to know some very important things.

"I may have considered this as charity for about five minutes," she admitted softly. "But…when you stood up for me, when you told me how much of a prat Ron is and how he doesn't give a damn about me, this became more than charity. Whatever sympathy I felt went away, whatever pity that caused me to do this disappeared. I…I started to just care…"

"How?" he choked out, unable to hear the words. Unable to understand just what she was trying to say. "Why?"

Wiping at her eyes, she twisted her hands and stared down at her feet. "You don't need sympathy or pity…I realized this…you don't need anyone to pretend to care…and I never once pretended," she admitted. "I truly did care, I did give a damn about your feelings, I gave a fuck about how you felt and I wanted to know your every thought and feeling. I wanted to know what was going on through your mind; I wanted to make you happy, not to relief the guilt in my heart, but just so that you could be happy.

"It no longer mattered what I felt, no longer mattered how much guilt I felt; I just cared…I wanted you to smile for the sake of you. I wanted you happy just so that you could be happy. But, I also wanted to be the one to make you happy. I wanted to be the one who let you know somebody cared…"

She reached over with a shaking hand and grabbed her glass, taking a sip before continuing. "I…I started to like you."

His stance stiffened and his heart hammered in his chest. What exactly was she trying to say to him?

"How come when you told Potty this was a charity event, you didn't get cursed?" he asked, wanting to find as many flaws in her speech as possible. It was as though a part of him didn't want to hear the truth, didn't want to listen to her admittance that she loved him.

She gave him a weak, watery smile and shakily put the glass back. "The wording…I told him it started as a charity event, which was true. I never had to tell him what I felt after I made my decision."

His arms dropped to his side at her words and he debated whether to believe them or not. He wanted to remain in this blissfully shocked state, to stare at her, open-mouthed, and believe every single word spoken. But he wasn't sure…he was guarded, unsure of what was true or not.

"Prove it."

The words came out before he could even think. He had just blurted them out, wanting her to prove the impossible; that she loved him from the very beginning.

"I will," she promised with a weak smile. "Give me some time to explain myself, please."

Wiping his face with his hand, he exhaled loudly and turned to look at the crackling fireplace. "Fine."

"I…well, I suppose I'll continue…after a bit, I just wanted to make you happy, you know? I know I'm repeating myself, but it's true," she said, saying the words louder than necessary. "After…after a while I started to realize something…something I don't think I would have realized if I hadn't stayed…"

Deafening silence filled the room as she finished stammering over her words. Her hands were red and bruising from the way she kept twisting and wrenching them, her body rocking on the balls of her feet, as though she couldn't remain still for a lengthy period of time. Her heart hammered in her chest, her eyes burned with unshed tears, and her soul ached to know his response.

He wanted to remain cooler than her, but his heart was beating just as fast, his eyes wide and dry as he tried not to blink, not wanting to miss a single one of her expressions. His soul…his soul ached in anticipation…he wanted to know what she was going to say, but at the same time he didn't want her to say it. A part of him never wanted her to say it.

If she said it, he could never be angry with her ever again…because he knew that it would be true.

"I started…" she choked on the words; her face blushed a bright red, as though the very notion of them was either arousing or embarrassing.

"I…I started…"

"Just spit it out," he snapped, unable to withstand the tension any longer. "Just say it and get it the fuck over with."

"I started to fall in love with you!"

If the silence beforehand had been considered deafening, then this was beyond it. He stood in shock, unable to believe his ears, and yet, he believed every single word. His heart almost ceased to beat before moving in a quick tempo that quickly rose into a crescendo and stayed there. Her eyes glistened in the faint light, sincerity and pain making the amber pale and soft. Her body trembled with fear; fear that he might reject her love, fear that he might laugh in her face, fear that he might actually love her in return…

She had never been in love before this…

Nobody had ever told him they loved him…except for his mother…

"I…I realized something…just before that," she said quietly, needing to find a way to break the silence. "I realized that…I just couldn't stay away from you. I wanted to be near you…I needed to feel your touch, smell your scent, to taste you, to just be with you. I couldn't get enough of you and couldn't stand being away with you. And…and I was afraid…

"I was so scared…I didn't understand what was going on, didn't know how you might react…all I knew was that I needed to be with you. I don't know when it turned from a want into a need; all I know is that I couldn't go on without just seeing you at least once a day.

"I don't know if I'm one hundred percent in love with you…I think that, I'm still falling; it's too early for me to be certain…but, I know that…that if we just give up like this, that if we go on ignoring and hating each other, we won't know each other's love. I…I don't want to give you up. I don't want to let you go…I can't…I can't stand the thought of never being with you ever again."

The tears flowed freely now, silently streaming down her cheeks to land on her twisting hands.

"I know I hurt you…and nothing I could ever do or say will be able to take away that pain…but…but I need you know how I feel. You aren't some charity event, you never were a charity event…you're someone I'm falling in love with…someone I want to see happy, no matter the cost. And…and I'm sorry…I'm so sorry for hurting you…but…but I can't stand the thought that you might hate me…

"I'm not asking for you to forgive me," she finally choked out, "I'm not asking for you to love me…I just don't want you to hate me. I want you to try and give us one more chance. There will always be that mark in our relationship; we'll never be able to forget it…but I want to see past that, just keep it as a bad memory…one bad memory surrounded by the good ones."

She swallowed thickly, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand before lifting her head to look him squarely in the eye. "I want to make more good memories with you, Draco. Maybe…maybe even for the rest of my life…if it comes down to it…"

He felt as though a sledgehammer had been thrust against his chest. His whole body felt as though he'd been physically shoved back by an immeasurable force. The love, the devotion, and the pain in her eyes…they physically shook him. He slammed back against the wall, eyes wide with pain, shock, and happiness as she spoke the words he'd wanted to hear for the past month.

She loved him…she wanted to be with him…

He wasn't just some charity event she had coldly planned out…

He was more to her than that…

His body trembled as the words flew through his mind, a swirl of happiness that only increased the more the words were repeated.

She loved him.

Did he….did he love her?

His hand gripped his pocket, holding the picture beneath as it burned a hole in his pants. She had lied to him…but she was saying sorry, wasn't she? She meant it…she wasn't lying now…he saw it in her eyes, in the way she stood, the way she spoke…

She wasn't lying…

Shaking hands reached out to grab the photo albums on the table, and Hermione took a few tentative steps forwards, thrusting the albums into his chest.

"Please…please…if you want proof of any kind…you want me to prove it…just look at these." She turned away, moving towards the kitchen and began cleaning the barely used dishes. "I'll…I'll just clean up and get out of your way; I suppose you'll want to think things over before giving me an answer."

She was taking his silence as a no, he realized dimly through the fog in his mind. The words barely went noticed as he stared down at the two albums in his arms. Slowly, he opened the first and was met with picture after picture of them playing in the snow.

As each page was turned, he was met with more images of them, one where he lay in the snow and she was on her elbows, almost lying on top of him, laughter glowing in her eyes. In another, they were laughing and talking at the Three Broomsticks, not an inkling of annoyance or irritation in their eyes. There was another where they were shopping, holding up items and clearly arguing over which was better, followed by one where Hermione was hugging herself with laughter as he grinned over her.

So much…so many images…how did they? Had she hired someone to follow them? When did she get these images? Who took them?

How come, in spite of her words that he was a charity event, he never once saw any sign that her actions were like a chore?

He only saw love, happiness, mirth, and compassion; not a single negative emotion. There was nothing fake to her either; nothing was staged, nothing seemed faked in any way or form.

The photos were pictures of her real feelings, of her real thoughts…

He really wasn't a charity event…

She really did love him…

Holding the albums to his chest, he shut his eyes as joy and pain swept over him. Al those little things, all of those things she had ragged on him for hiding, it was all because she wanted him to smile, because she wanted to be near him. She loved him.

He…he…in spite of everything, in spite of all of her annoying characteristics, in spite of those damn words that had hurt him so much…to see the truth before him…to see that she had never lied to him about her feelings…

He reached out and grabbed her as she moved to pass him and head up the stairs. The albums fell to the ground with a loud clatter and were forgotten as she spun around, amber eyes gazing into his stormy greys.

"Draco," she whispered softly, lips trembling with apprehension and anticipation. "You don't have to…"

"I should hate you," he replied. "I should hate every single fibre of your body, should want for you to go on the rest of your life in pain. I shouldn't even consider forgiving you for what you said. I…I don't even understand how you can…how you managed to…but…but you managed to get inside of me."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as though readying himself for what he was about to do. "Hermione Granger, I should hate you for everything you have done and stood for, I should never forgive you…but I can't bring myself to do it. I…I can't stand seeing you in pain…I can't stand the notion of you withering away in sadness. I…I don't want to leave you…I should, but I don't want to. I don't even think I could if I tried."

Her eyes shone with hope, hand shaking in his grasp as she blinked away tears.

"I'm a fool, a prat, a real idiot," he continued. "I don't think either of us deserves each other…but, I'm too much of a fool to not fall for you. I should tell myself you're lying, but I know, deep down, that you aren't. I know that you love me…and…and…"

He couldn't say it…it was stuck there, in his throat, and he just couldn't get it out.

It was a sudden movement, done without any warning at all; all Hermione knew was that one minute, she was ready to cry, and the next his lips were pressed against hers in the most passionately chaste kiss she had ever had. Her arms flew up to wrap around his neck, holding him in place as her mouth moved under his.

They fit so perfectly together…so damn perfect…

He pulled away, staring down at her, lips a breath away and he smiled. "I love you."

The tears fell freely once more as they lips met again, and they both felt at peace for the first times in their lives.

* * *

"Do you think they're talking?"

"I'm not sure; we can't hear anything."

"I feel like a mischief maker, you realize that, right?"

Luna looked over to Blaise with a broad grin. "You're like Puck."

"Who's Puck?" He looked sincerely perplexed.

"A mischievous character from a Shakespearean play," Luna replied, turning back to press her ear against the wall behind the statue of Aphrodite. "I don't hear anyone yelling."

"Sweetheart, that's because you can't hear shit through the wall."

Blaise looked up at the statue, whose head was turned to look at the couple by the wall. He grimaced childishly in her direction. "How come I don't believe you?"

She winked at him. "You should; I spend every day here, the only thing I ever heard was them yelling at each other. Aside from that, you can't hear anything."

He actually fought back the urge to pout and sent a glare in her direction. "Stop talking; I want to hear what they're saying." He turned his back to the statue and pressed his ear against the wall beside Luna.

Huffing loudly, the statue happily flipped off the dark-skinned man before turning around to glare at the wall.

"Do you think they've made up yet?"

Luna glanced over to Blaise and sighed softly. "I hope so…what happened was really serious. I don't know if he'll forgive her right away. She worked so hard on getting those pictures…she slept for a whole day afterwards; she was so exhausted."

Smiling gently, he reached out and rubbed Luna's shoulder. "I'm sure that he'll forgive her."

"Yeah, I know," she replied with a sigh. "But I just can't help but worry. Their most precious things are on the line."

Tugging her closer, he wrapped his arms around the blonde and placed a tender kiss on the top of her head. "Their hearts…I know. We just have to put our trust in them."

"We were pretty bad, weren't we? Giving them those little pushes and shoves in order to get them to get closer," Luna said with a small giggle.

He smiled against her hair, tilting his head, still hoping that he might hear those fateful words being spoken on the other side of the wall. "As you said, we're mischievous people. We like to meddle with fate a bit."

She grinned against his chest, blue eyes looking up at his smiling face. "They were always fated to be together; we didn't meddle with fate, we just made things go a little faster."

"That's true…they were meant for each other; if we hadn't meddled, then they would have found another way to be together."

"I know," she replied, grin broadening, "but, as I said, we're like Puck; we like to meddle. It's fun."

He chuckled and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. "I know something else that's fun, too."

"Blaise!" she squealed, smacking his chest. "We can't! It's bad luck!"

"How is it bad luck?" he asked with a perplexed expression.

"I can't possibly have sex with you while I'm in possession of a Lilywagner's paw, it's bad luck!"

"And what will happen if we do?" He leaned closer to her, kissing around her mouth.

"Well…I…it might make your penis turn very hairy," she stammered.

"I'll take the risk."

"I, uh…it will…make my breasts smaller."

"You don't even have a Lilywagner's paw, do you?"

"No, not really," she admitted.

"You just want to be a pervert and listen to see if they're having sex, don't you?"

"Yeah…"

Blaise burst out into laughter and hugged Luna to him. "This is exactly why I love you. You're the greatest."

Blushing darkly against his chest, knowing fully well that Blaise was the only one to achieve such a response from her, she smiled, thinking how Hermione and Draco considered each other to be the greatest.

They loved each other, after all.

* * *

**Yatta!!!!!**

**I (we) did it!**

**Chapter 23, the love climax, is completed!!!!!!!!!!**

**I never really intended to add the whole Luna-Blaise scene at the end, but as I wrote it, I thought it grew cuter by the second. I know Luna seems just a touch OC there, but I guess, like I wrote, "Blaise is the only one who makes her act like that."**

**How did you like it? I liked it a LOT. I couldn't stop writing. I was on the train, writing like a maniac, totally obsessed, and then my stop came and it was like the end of the WORLD!!!!!**

**So, next chapter, possible lemon between Hermione and Draco? I think we're kind of needing one by now, eh? And no, they will not have sex for the first time on Christmas, WAY too cliché!**

**Btw, I would have been finished this about two hours ago, but I started watching -man and am now obsessed. I just want to hug Allen. Episode 5 made me cry like a freakin' baby!!!**

**Sooooo…onto review overview before I get distracted!!!!!**

**Adoration – you guys make me smile. Seriously. Ever single damn review you send that's filled with love, saying how much you love the story…really, it makes me so happy. I LOVE YOU!!!!!!**

**Flames – nonexistent, but I suppose that if you were to flame now, it would be rather silly, eh? I always figured flames had more of an impact near the beginning of the story…but, meh. Go ahead if you feel like it. IT WILL ONLY MAKE HERMIONE AND DRACO'S SEX EVEN HOTTER!!!!**

**Critical criticism/Editing – I love you guys too!!! I'm so glad whenever somebody points out silly mistakes I've made and let's me know about it. Thank you so much!!**

* * *

**RECIPE TIME!**

**Chocolate Tiramisu!**

**Ingredients!**

2 cups brewed coffee, cold

1 container (1 lb/500g) mascarpone cheese

1 can (300 mL) regular or low cat sweetened condensed milk

1 cup whipping cream

1 ½ cups semi-sweet chocolate chips, melted and slightly cooled

36-40 Italian ladyfinger cookies

1 tsp vanilla extract

**Directions!**

1. Place cold coffee in a shallow bowl. Reserve.

2. In a separate bowl, beat mascarpone and condensed milk until well combined. Reserve.

3. Whip cream in a large bowl until it holds stiff peaks. Add vanilla into whipping cream. Gently fold into reserved mascarpone mixture until combined. Lightly swirl in melted and cooled chocolate.

4. Dipping both sides of each ladyfinger cookie into cold coffee, line bottom of a 9"x13" (3 L) baking dish with 18 ladyfinger cookies in 3 rows, trimming edges if necessary. Spread half the chocolate swirled mascarpone filling, about 2 cups, on top. Dip remaining ladyfinger cookies in coffee and arrange over filling in pan. Spread remaining mascarpone filling on top.

5. Chill, covered with plastic wrap, at least 4 hours.

TIPS!

1. Tiramisu can be refrigerated for up to 2 days.

2. Compliment your tiramisu with coffee for that added touch (the book says: Folgers Gourmet Selections Lively Columbian Coffee! But I don't want to start advertising products 'cause I won't make money…)

Recipe found in: Simple Homemade Fall '09, page 25 (booklet that came with the Oct. 2009 Canadian Reader's Digest)

ENJOY!

I'll see you all next chapter!

(It might not be posted for a bit…tomorrow's a busy day, it's also my five-year anniversary with my fiancé, and I work Friday and have baking to do, and Saturday/Sunday, I'm spending with my fiancé to celebrate. I'll try to do as much as I can.)

P.S. We decided to do the Pumpkin Pie Crisp, since he loves pumpkin pie and it's something seasonal and cheap to make.

I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	25. Unleashing the Fire

**Warning: lemony goodness for the first half of this chapter. You have been warned. If you wish to keep your eyes and mind virginal, turn away now!!! I will not put up some signs in the middle of the text going "HOLY SHIT! HE IS ABOUT TO PUT HIS PENIS IN HER VAGINA TURN AWAY!" and "OKAY IT'S OVER!!!!!!! NO MORE SEX!" Sorry, it just interrupts the flow.**

**So read at your own risk. Do NOT complain to me about the lemon if you don't like it, you've been warned. If you complain, I will laugh at you and tell you to stfu. **

**For all of the perverts who've been waiting for this: ENJOY!!! **

**Chapter 24**

**Unleashing the Fire**

They slowly separated from the kiss, as though they never wanted to let go. His hands cupped her face, thumbs gently tracing her cheeks as he smiled down at her.

She was so beautiful; he couldn't believe he had ever wanted to hate her for the rest of eternity. Her eyes glistened with tears, hair tousled around her blushing face, and her lips full and ripe, perfect for kisses.

How come he hadn't seen it before? How come he had been so blind for so long?

"Draco…"

"Hmm?" He leaned down to place butterfly kisses along her jaw. "Yes?"

"I really do love you," she replied softly, holding his body closer to hers. "I love you so much."

He nuzzled her throat, listening to her soft mewl of pleasure, enjoying the way she arched her head back, giving him easier access. "You do realize how insane we are, right?"

"Yes," she gasped out as his lips found a nerve. "Quite insane. In a matter of weeks we managed to fall in love with each other, I would say we're quite insane. But it's a good insanity."

"Why?" He slid his tongue out, tracing the path of her jugular, from the back of her ear down to her collarbone. She tasted so good, so damn delicious…he wasn't sure if he would be able to contain himself this time.

"Because if we weren't so insane, we wouldn't be in love," she replied with a laugh. He bit back a groan at the sound; it was such a throaty, sexual laugh.

"Hermione," he murmured against her throat, "I…dear Gods…I don't think that I'll…"

Her felt her smile as she pulled him in for another breathtaking kiss, groaning as her tongue snaked it way between his lips, dancing a timeless mating dance with his. Her hands dug into his hair, pulling him closer, pressing him harder against her. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, blood heating up as desire began to rush through his veins.

"Don't worry," she whispered as they separated from the kiss, "I don't think I can wait much longer, either."

"But," he muttered between kisses, pushing her body against the wall of the staircase, planting kiss after kiss all over her ivory throat, "don't you…think that…it's a little…fast?"

"I love you," she gasped out as his teeth latched onto her earlobe, "that's all that matters."

"I love you too, Hermione," he groaned, moving his mouth down to suckle onto a particularly sensitive part of her throat. "You taste so good."

She laughed again, that sensual laugh that made his groin hot and tight with need. In seconds, he pressed her harder against the wall, pressing every single crevice, every little part of his body against hers, needing to feel her all over him. He silenced her laughter with a searing kiss, one that shook them to the cores, like lightning striking over every single nerve ending on their body at once.

His hands moved down, tracing her ribs, sliding down the curve of her stomach to rest on her hips, fingers digging into the denim of her jeans. They slowly tucked into the belt loops and he aggressively yanked her closer, pressing his aching member against her tantalizing core.

"Draco!" she gasped, his mouth tugging her bottom lip within its hold, sucking until her lip was a brilliant red.

Her hands ran down his back, nails digging into his shirt and flesh as she yearned to feel every single inch of his body. Her eyes were shut in carnal bliss as he assaulted her mouth with kiss after passionate kiss, her breasts heaving against his chest, nipples twin peaks of pleasure.

"Again," he groaned, digging his fingers into her hips, almost bruising her flesh.

She dragged her nails down his back a second time, this time tucking them under the hem of his shirt to pull it up and expose his heated flesh. Moaning into his mouth as her fingers made contact with his skin; she raked her nails across his lower back, marring his pale skin with bright red lines.

His hands slid around her hips, thumb tucked into her jeans as his fingers trailed over the denim covering her legs. Urging her closer, needing her to be as close as possible, he slid his hands down to cup her buttocks. She whimpered loudly when he dug his fingers into her skin, sliding his hands down her thighs just a bit in order to lift her against his body.

Her back hit the wall, the railing digging into her lower back, but she was too consumed by need to notice it. His hands were touching her, rubbing her, all over, everywhere…she couldn't get enough of his touch, of the feel of his skin under her hands.

Her head fell back as he latched onto a rather sensitive spot along her collarbone, a loud cry escaping her lips as he sucked and bit the flesh. Her legs spread wide, beckoning him closer, needing his member to be pressed against her core.

She cried out his name as her womb clenched with pleasure, liquid heat pouring out to soak her panties, and she swore that he could feel it through her jeans. She didn't care…back a few weeks, she might have given a damn, but now…it felt too good. Hell, it probably felt even better now…since she knew that he harboured the same feelings for her.

"Gods," she gasped out as his lips traced her collarbone.

Her hands tore at his shirt, aching to tear it away from his skin and feel his burning flesh against hers. She jerked under his touch, revelling in the sensation of his lips against her skin. So warm, so soft…such a wonderful feeling.

"Hermione," he gasped, pulling away to trail kisses along her cheek, "I…I don't think…"

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer, nuzzling against his throat. "Don't think," she whispered, tongue reaching out to tease his earlobe.

"I can't…I won't be able to hold back this time," he managed to groan out; the feeling of her breath against his ear was almost too much to handle.

"Then don't," she replied, nipping his lobe with her teeth, tucking it into her mouth to suckle on it.

His hands twitched at her side, flexing tightly before gripping onto her hips, thrusting her body against his. His nails dug into her skin, bruising her flesh, causing her to whimper against his mouth.

"Hermione," he warned, pressing her harder against the wall, "I promise you…I won't be able to be gentle; I've been waiting for so long…"

She lifted her hands to gently drag her nails down his cheeks, pulling away to gaze up into his stormy eyes. "I don't care, so long as it's with you." Leaning forward, she did something she never thought she would ever do or say. "Fuck me, Draco Malfoy."

She was blushing as she said it, unable to believe that she was actually saying something like this. She had never thought she'd say it, never would have believed that, at any point in her life, she would be asking for someone to do such a thing.

Her embarrassment quickly flooded away as he let out a loud growl, crushing his lips down against hers in a searing kiss. Her body ached and groaned, her hands moving all over to slide under his skin and mark his skin with her nails. Her legs tightened their grip around his waist, hips gyrating that pressed his aching length harder against her core.

His hands tore at her shirt, tearing apart the material as though it were butter, exposing her flushed skin, her full breasts that were aching and straining against her bra.

He didn't know why, but the simply cotton bra aroused him even more. Hissing against her lips, he started down at her chest, muttering various curses.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he groaned, lowering his head to press his lips against the curve of her breasts.

She ground her hips against his, smirking in a way that would have made him proud. "I think I do."

"You're so naughty," he groaned, sliding his tongue against her skin.

She was burning for him, writhing against his body as he slowly dipped it into her bra, sliding down to curl around the tight nub of her nipple. Crying out, her hands clenched his back, holding him closer to her, and her fever increased. Sweat began to bead along her brow, sliding down as his tongue curled and teased her nipple in ways she had never imagined a tongue could do.

"I don't know why I love this," he groaned, tugging at her bra. "It's so simple but so fucking sexy. But," he looked up to her with a fierce stare, "I want it off."

It seconds, the material fell to the ground in pieces and she managed to let out a cry of indignation before his mouth completely latched onto her breast. One hand reached up to grab her other breast, teasing and rubbing her, his palm gently brushing against her tight, aching nipple.

Hissing with pleasure, her hands reached up to grab hold of his hair, fingers sliding through the silken locks to keep him pressed against her. She moaned and cried out, pressing against him as his mouth did things she never thought a mouth could do. Such a wonderful combination of teeth, tongue, and lips that made her want to scream with pleasure.

Her hips began to grind against his, needing to feel his pressed harder against her core, aching for him to find a way to release the pleasure-pressure building up inside of her.

"Don't stop," she moaned as he sucked, flicking his tongue back and forth across the nub. "Don't…don't stop…"

Whimpering loudly, she actually growled when he removed his mouth, only to hit her head against the wall when he took her other nipple into his mouth. A small scream escaped her lips as he teased her sensitive peak, pleasing the other one with his hand.

Her nails scored his back, hands trying to find a way to tear off his shirt.

"Off," she gasped, yanking it up, "take it off…I need to feel you…"

He pulled away to comply, tugging it off of him before tossing it aside and resuming his earlier task.

Purring with contentment, she ran her hands over his back, enjoying the sensation of his skin flexing and tightening under her touch, tracing every muscle as his mouth created an indescribable amount of pleasure.

He groaned out her name, pulling away from her buds to take her mouth in another heated kiss, and she let out a loud moan at the feeling of his bare chest rubbing against hers.

His hands delved into her hair, holding her head in place as he plundered her mouth, shifting his body ever so slightly, enjoying the feeling of her breasts rubbing against his chest, her tight nipples forming hot, burning trails along his heated flesh.

Her hands dragged down his chest, murmuring words of pleasure as she traced every muscle, dancing along his abdominals in a way that made his skin tighten reflexively. Muttering a series of incoherent words, he took her bottom lip into his mouth and suckled it as she dragged her nails over his skin, grazing against his nipples.

"Don't like," he mumbled, moving from her lips to bruise her neck with his mouth and teeth.

Nodding, unable to think of a single proper thing to say, she continued her journey of memorizing every part of his body. Her hands slid over his soaked skin, tracing, outlining; burning every single groove and bump of him into her memory.

His body was so strong, so rugged, so purely masculine, that it made her womb quiver with anticipation.

Her fingers found his belt and began tugging aggressively at it, managing to half undo it before let out a groan of frustration and performed the rest of the task for her. Once it fell to the floor, his lips fell on her throat, licking and nipping the overly sensitive flesh as she writhed under him, trying in vain to unzip his pants.

"The couch," she gasped out, undulating against him. "Now."

Pulling away, he looked down at her, eyes smouldering with need. She looked ravished; her lips full, rosy and wet, her eyes hooded and the colour of aged whiskey, her cheeks flushed brightly against her ivory skin. Her chest rose and fell with each panting breath, and it aroused him even more.

He ached for her, his body wound tight, ready to snap at any second. He wanted to take her in the more primitive way, wanted to have her and all of her, to take her and keep her in his arms for the rest of eternity.

"Hermione," he murmured, lowering his head to press his forehead against hers. "I thought…on the bed? Wouldn't you want it to be romantic?"

She smiled up at him and rubbed against him. "What we have…it's not just romance. I don't need flowers and candles and all of that lame stuff. I don't care where it is…how it is…I just want it to be with you."

Kissing her eyes, he smiled against her face. "Really?"

"Yes…sex…sex isn't really romantic, is it? It's primitive; it's a mating ritual, the feeling of you on me…I don't need candles and fancy stuff to make it feel better." She reached up and kissed him on the lips. "Hard, passionate love making…throwing away all logic…it's the best it can get…right?"

"Hermione," he groaned out, "you…you have no idea how much that just turned me on…I need you so much…"

"Show me," she whispered, taking his mouth in a hard kiss, "show me how much you need me."

She had no idea they were moving until her back hit the couch and cushions were sent flying about. A book was tossed aside and she didn't even care; she was too focused on the feel of his body lying down on top of hers, pressing against her, to give a damn about anything else.

Their kisses grew in passion, the fire between them increasing as the tempo of their touches grew faster and faster. The world around them became a whirl of colour, the only solid thing in their vision being one another. Sweat poured down their bodies, their skin feverishly hot as they touched and caressed, bruised and bit, unable to get enough of each other.

His pants fell to the floor first and he nearly roared when she hesitantly took his burning member into her hand.

"I've never done this before…" she said, the blush on her cheeks reminding him of how intimate and special this moment was for her.

"You're doing great," he ground out, burying his face in her neck as she slowly began to slide her hand up and down his length.

"It's big…but, well…we're biologically made to fit so…it will fit," she added almost mechanically.

She was nervous, he realized; probably more afraid that she would do something wrong than of the pain she might experience. Just as he was about to tell her that she was doing an amazing job, she rubbed the tip of her thumb over the tip of his erection, tracing it down a bit to tease the small spot just where the tip formed into the shaft.

He shouted against her throat, eyes shut with ecstasy as his hips jerked violently. Damn it…that felt so good…

"Did I do something wrong?"

Lifting his head, he smiled down at her, wanting to scream at her for removing her hand. "No…no damn it…don't stop…"

"So it felt good?"

"Fuck, I told you to not stop, didn't I?" he groaned, taking her mouth in another fiery kiss.

As her hands explored his length, his slowly made their way down her body, tracing every little curve until they came to rest on her jeans. His movements were jerky; every so often she would find a particularly sensitive spot and rub on it until he swore he saw stars.

He was almost afraid he might die of pleasure before he even got to please her.

"Stop…" he gasped. "If you keep it up…I won't be able…damn it, Hermione, stop it before I come."

Her cheeks reddened and she quickly withdrew her hand, smiling up at him. "Sorry…"

"Don't," he murmured, slowly kissing his way down her chest, taking an aching nipple in his mouth. "Let me…please you…"

She had no idea he had even unbuttoned her jeans, hell, she had barely been aware of his hands removing them; all she knew was that, in mere seconds, she was completely naked.

His hands…his hands were…

Her head fell back as a scream escaped her lips when his fingers began to trace her lips, brushing gently against the swollen bud nestled in her folds. Pleasure shot through her body in electrical pulses, vibrating in her core.

"Draco…Draco that's…"

He laughed quietly against her breast, teasing her bud even more with the flick of his fingers, rubbing and caressing it, increasing her pleasure as he increased the tempo. She began to grow wilder beneath him, clenching and convulsing, crying and moaning, gasping for him to never stop.

Suddenly, she went completely still as he slid his finger into her moist depths. Grinning, he looked up at her and watched as her body slowly began to break apart. Her eyes fluttered shut with ecstasy, mouth slowly opening to let out a loud scream as he began to slowly wriggle his finger.

She cried for him to never stop, thrusting her hips up to meet each movement of his finger, consumed by the burning need that poured through her veins and filled her body.

His cock twitched at how tight she clenched around his finger, how it made a slight squishing sound every time he moved his hand, and he almost came on the spot when he heard her cry out his name. Grinning, he moved his head down to rest on her thigh, lowering half of his body to floor; wanting to have the best view he could in order to witness Hermione Granger's complete loss of control.

Pressing a kiss to her thigh, he slid his finger out completely, listened to her whining for a total of five seconds, before sliding two inside of her. Closing his eyes, he let out a loud groan as she fell back with a scream, her walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers.

"Fuck," he growled, unable to resist the temptation of slamming his fingers deep inside of her, tracing the insides in an attempt to find that little button that would make her cover his hand in liquid pleasure.

"Again." He slid his fingers against that little spot, watching as she grew wilder and wetter beneath his touch. "Again and again…"

He began to scissor his fingers, stretching her, not just to accommodate his size, but also because the sight of her losing control, succumbing to the pleasure, made him slowly grow more and more insane with need.

Slowly, he climbed back on top of her, spreading her legs, fingers always moving in a quick tempo. She writhed and twisted beneath him, eyes shut with sheer ecstasy as she let out cry after cry.

"Come for me," he growled, leaning forward to whisper the words in her ear.

Her eyes flung open as her body wound tight, all movement stopping except for the slight jerking of her hips as a tremendous wave of ecstasy washed over her. Pulled under by the force, her body began to shake, thrusting up to meet his hand, convulsing violently around his hand.

In a swift move, something she hardly noticed while lost in the throes of the orgasm, he withdrew his fingers and pressed his cock to her center. In a second, he slid into her moist passage, experiencing little to no difficulty.

Hermione was too lost in pleasure to even note the slight, very minor, pain that came from him filling her. All she felt was completion; as though a part of her had finally been filled. The sensation of him stretching her, the feel of his bare cock sliding inside of her body, threw her over the edge once more, falling into an ocean of pleasure.

Gritting his teeth, burying his face against her throat, he tried his damn hardest not to come on the spot. The feel of her, so wet and tight, velvet heat surrounding him, was the most pleasurable experience of his life. It felt so good…so damn perfect.

"Draco?"

Her voice pulled him out of his concentrated state and he lifted his head, finding her staring curiously up at him.

"What are you doing?"

Arching a brow, he frowned down at her. "What do you mean?"

Again, that delicious blush of timidity and embarrassment flooded her cheeks and she gestured downwards to where their bodies were joined. "Well…I thought you were supposed to move to have sex…maybe I read wrong or…"

Grinning at her, he slowly ground his hips against hers. When she let out a soft cry, his grin widened. "Hermione, I don't think I've ever told you how fucking adorable you are." Leaning forward, he licked her lobe, grinding his hips again. "Or how fucking sexy you are."

"I…I think you've…said the second…oh shit…one before…" she gasped out between thrusts.

Dear Gods, the feeling of him sliding in and out of her was indescribable. Her body felt so tight, so damn sensitive, and she couldn't get enough of it. He was filling her time and time again, his pelvis grinding against her sensitive nub with each movement. But…but he was still holding back. She felt it, felt the way he was unsure of his movements, as though afraid of hurting her.

She didn't want him to hold back, didn't want him to stop…damn it, she wanted him to be rough, aggressive, to make love to her like he'd never fucked another woman before.

Raking her nails down his back, she moved her head up to gasp out; "I'm not made of glass…fuck me hard…" before latching onto his throat in a brutally pleasurable bite.

She had actually never heard a man roar in ecstasy before, no matter what she thought or watched, and the experience was more than sexually gratifying. Especially since she had been the cause of such a primal sound.

His body jerked, almost as though the very thought of it made him lose absolute control for a short period. The next thing she knew, her legs were thrown over his shoulders and he was thrusting deep inside of her, hard and fast, touching places she had never even realized she'd had.

It was deliciously probing, a wonderful pressure that touched every little part inside of her body, rubbing against every little sensitive inch of her core. His hands bruised her already marred hips, his breath coming in gasps as he moved harder and faster, needing to fill her, needing to be surrounded by her for ever and ever.

Her body tightened, muscles beginning to spasm in anticipation, and she reached up, digging her nails into his shoulders, crying out his name.

"I…I can't….Draco…don't stop, don't fucking stop!"

Falling forward, his movement became erratic; he couldn't hold back anymore, could withstand the velvet heat of her, and his hips jerked violently against hers.

"Hermione…I….can I?"

Pulling his head down to rest beside hers, she snaked her tongue to rub the little spot behind his ear, letting out a mewling cry as he rubbed against one particularly sensitive spot.

"Fill me, Draco, be the first to fill me," she whispered.

"Shit."

Her legs fell from his shoulders, barely clinging to his waist as he slammed hard and fast inside of her, before his body began to spasm. It stretched, grew in thickness, as it began to fill her with his seed.

The sensation, the wonderfully amazing feeling of him filling her, the warmth it created, was more than enough to push her off of the precipice. Crashing into a world of ecstasy, she screamed out his name, tightening around him to keep him buried deep within her.

His body collapsed on hers; panting heavily into her hair, heart hammering a wild tattoo against his chest. Hers matched his' tempo, her hands slowly falling away from his back to hang limply at her sides, eyes shutting as something beyond bliss began to slowly creep into her mind.

It was such a wonderful feeling, having his body lying on top of hers, both spent from the passionate act, She loved the feel of his body pressed against hers, so warm, so comforting…so perfect.

"Oh Gods," he groaned into her ear, sending shivers rushing down her spine. "Don't…don't move…"

"I can't," she replied with a quiet laugh. "I think I lost the ability to."

She felt his smile against her ear, felt the rumbling of his chest as he quietly laughed, and she loved every second of it.

"You…you know," she said softly, managing to move a hand to run through his hair, "you're kind of crushing me."

Lifting his head, she watched a lovely blush cover his cheeks, and couldn't help but giggle. He began to shift, replying, "Sorry, I didn't realize."

"It's okay; it was comfortable for a bit, but now I think you're crushing my lungs."

Laughing, he began to slide out of her, and the two groaned in unison at the feeling. Hissing softly, he leaned down, burying his face in her breasts as he fought for control.

"So…fucking good…"

"My thoughts exactly," she murmured, trailing a nail down his back, watching him shiver uncontrollably in response.

"I…we should roll over or something," he suggested as soon s he was able to think coherently.

Nodding, they began the difficult process of rolling over on the couch, her pressed against the back, him practically hanging off of the ledge. It was going well until he lost his balance and fell hard on the floor.

She burst into laughter, holding her sides tight at the sight of him lying sprawled on the floor by the couch, grumbling about how couches were far too small to accommodate two people.

"Are…are you all right?" she giggled, leaning over to look down at him.

Before he responded, his hand reached out, grabbed her shoulder and yanked her down on top of him, earning a shriek of surprise.

"Draco!" she cried, leaning back to elbow him in the ribs. "I could have hit the table!"

"Yes, I know."

"And you don't give a damn?"

His hands gently cupped her face, thumbs rubbing her softly. Leaning up, he placed a kiss on her lips before pulling away and smiling tenderly.

"I want you to know…I'm all right now."

Unable to hold back the smile, she fell on top of him, hugging him tightly to her. Nuzzling his chest, she let out a soft laugh.

"So am I."

So perfect…unbelievably perfect…

* * *

"Do I really have to go?"

"You have no choice; you made a promise."

Sighing heavily, Hermione leaned back on the couch, tilting her head so that she could look back to Draco, who was currently eating a bowl of cereal.

"But…"

Glancing over to her, grinning at the silly way she was seated, he shook his head. "Don't you find it a little odd that you're not excited about visiting your 'friends' on Christmas Eve?"

"No…not after what they've done."

Gesturing to her with the spoon, he narrowed his eyes. "I hate to say it, but we should be thanking Potty for intervening. If he hadn't, then the sex wouldn't have been so good."

Scowling at him, she flipped the same gesture Ron had taught Aphrodite, earning a loud laugh from the blond.

"I don't care," she replied. "I think that it would have been just as good either way; we had so many pent up feelings."

Swallowing a mouthful of cereal, he shrugged. "I suppose that you're right, but still…you should be thanking him. The way we were, it would've probably taken forever."

"No, not forever."

Arching a brow, he paused mid-bite and gave her a questioning look. Smiling, she shifted on the couch, turning around so that she was not looking at an upside-down version of him.

"To be honest, it probably would've happened Christmas day."

"How horribly cliché," he sighed, stuffing the spoon into his mouth.

Laughing, she resisted the urge to throw a pillow at him. "I know, but that's when I originally planned on giving you your Christmas present."

He grinned through his food, not even waiting to swallow before saying; "Were you going to lie naked under the tree, wrapped only in a bow?"

"Where the hell did you get that idea from?" Grabbing a pillow, she whipped it at his head, grimacing when he easily dodged it. "Pervert. Have you been talking to Luna?"

Moving to pick up the pillow, he tossed it back to her, grinning when it hit her straight on the head. "Why would I be talking to Luna? About what?"

Glaring at him, she picked up the pillow and quietly enchanted it, before continuing to glare in his direction. "Because…" the glare faded as a blush began to cover her cheeks. "Luna…Luna suggested that I do that for Christmas."

"Really?" His grin broadened and the cereal was left forgotten. "Well, it is a brilliant idea. You should go see her more often; she might have other ideas."

"Pervert!"

She tossed the pillow back at him and, roughly a second or so before it was about to reach his head, she muttered a single word and it exploded in a shower of water, soaking the blond sitting at the table.

Wiping water out of his eyes, he managed to glare at her. "That was a dirty trick."

"You deserved it."

"No, I did not."

"You were being a perverted prat, you definitely deserved it. Consider it a way of cooling off."

"I am not a prat," he snapped, slowly getting up from his seat.

"So you do acknowledge that you're a pervert." She began to remove herself from the couch, knowing fully well that he intended to get his revenge.

"Only when it comes to you," he replied with a smirk, slowly making his way to her.

Backing up, she began to weave her way out of the sitting area, slowly trying to make her way towards the door. "Well, while I find that quite flattering, I do wish that you could stop talking about your perverted thoughts every time we're together; it's a little creepy; I don't need to know what your hormones are thinking every two seconds."

"Oh, do you know what I'm thinking now? I'll give you a hint, it's nothing perverted."

She was almost at the door, but he was closing in on her, stalking her like a predator would stalk his prey, and her mouth began to water. Damn, it was such a powerful, confident and damn sexy walk.

"I'd rather not know." Her hand snuck behind her, grasping the doorknob.

He moved in closer, a couple feet away now. "Are you sure you don't event want to make a little guess?"

Swallowing thickly, she began to turn the knob. "I suppose it's safe to assume that you want revenge."

"Exactly."

He lunged at her the moment she opened the door, sliding through it just time to avoid his grasp. Spinning around, she began to rush away from it just as something was thrown on top of her, dragging her to the ground.

Letting out a loud cry of outrage as her clothes began to grow wet, she struggled in his grasp as he let out something close to maniacal laughter.

"Not fun now, is it?" he laughed, holding her close to him, successfully soaking her clothes.

"Let me go; you're getting me all wet" she snapped, managing to finally move around in his arms.

"Oh, but, Hermione, I know how much you love being wet under me."

Her mouth snapped shut as arousal and embarrassment made her face a bright red. Any crude retort she had in mind faded away and she stopped struggling in an attempt to regain her bearings.

Damn Draco…bastard always had a way with words.

He ground his hips against hers and she felt his hard length through the silk of his pyjama pants. Her head slowly fell back, eyes shutting his pleasure at the feel of his rubbing her through the silk and cotton. Damn him…they just couldn't get enough of each other. Hell, they had made love about a dozen times throughout yesterday afternoon, night, and this morning.

Each and every time, it felt like it was the first.

Right now was no exception.

"You should get that fixed," she managed to say, quite proud of herself that her voice did not sound breathy or aroused at all.

"I know one way we could fix it."

Opening her eyes, she looked up into his, watching the stormy grey swirl brilliantly. She loved his eyes; they changed so much with every emotion he felt; dark and wild when aroused, bright and silvery with happy.

Damn him and his beautiful eyes.

This was how Blaise found them, Draco resting on top of her, the two staring off into each other's eyes, completely oblivious to the world beyond.

Just as the dark-haired man was about to speak, Draco lowered his lips to Hermione's in a passionate kiss.

"Ew, mate, I don't need to see that first thing in the morning."

Hermione pulled away so fast that her head cracked against the floor. Draco rolled off of her and glared over at Blaise, forgetting about the woman grasping her head in pain.

"Give me a little warning next time," he snapped.

"Give you a little warning?" Blaise laughed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "How about you give me a little warning before you two start a snog-fest?"

Draco let out a loud 'oof' as Hermione finally managed to knee him in the solar plexus, causing him to fall on his side in pain, making him unable to respond. Crawling out from under him, the brunette's cheeks blushed a bright red as she got to her feet, dusting off her clothes.

"I would prefer it if you forgot you ever saw anything," she said softly. "Until…"

Grinning, the darker man nodded. "I'm not that daft, Granger. I know that your friends are little…special. I'll pretend I never saw a single thing. I may not be your friend, but you can still trust me to keep my word."

Sighing with relief, she smiled up at him. "Thank you." Tugging her hair out of her face, she gave him a harder, questioning look before speaking again. "What are you doing here so early in the day?"

Uncrossing his arms, he moved over to nudge Draco with his foot, wondering whether the blond was ever going to get back up. "Luna sent me."

"What?"

He glanced over to her, still pressing his foot into Draco's side, digging it slightly into his ribs. "She said that Ginny said that you were supposed to go to the Burrow today. I bumped into her at Hogsmeade yesterday and she asked me to tell you not to chicken out."

"What makes her think that I was going to chicken out?" Hermione snapped. "Why would I chicken out? It's just visiting my family and friends."

"Because of what I saw just a few seconds ago…you know, that thing I'm supposed to forget I saw."

Draco's hand reached out and grabbed a hold of Blaise's foot and the blond attempted to yank the brunet to the ground.

"I…uh, well…I suppose…I mean…" Fumbling over words, she completely ignored the scene before her; Blaise trying to kick Draco's hand away as the blond kept a tight grip around the other man's ankle. Both men were letting out a few random curses, Draco proclaiming that, since Blaise had kicked him in the ribs, he had every right to make Blaise fall.

"To be honest…I'm just afraid of what will happen if Ron tries to kiss me," she admitted with a heavy sigh, leaning against the wall to let her head fall back.

"If that…fuck Blaise…damn ginger tries anything – would you fall already?! – I'll fucking kill him," Draco snapped, letting out a hoot of triumph as the other man fell hard on his butt.

"Bastard," Blaise cursed, placing a well aimed kick to Draco's ribs. Sitting back, quite satisfied with the way he had just winded the blond, he looked over to Hermione. "I know that…we haven't been on amazing terms in life. Hell, I'm surprised you took my damn advice the other day. But, would you mind me giving you a little more advice?"

Sitting down, she hugged her legs to her body and nodded. "I suppose that it doesn't hurt. I mean…if Luna trusted you enough to send you up here, then I guess I can trust you. A bit…"

"That's enough for me." Crossing his legs, he brushed his shirt and looked over to the brunette. "You and this blond git love each other, don't you?" She nodded, her face a bright red. "Your friends a little…prejudiced when it comes to the blond git, too. That wasn't a question," he added when she nodded a second time. "Obviously you're smart enough to know that you can't just show up, Christmas Eve, and announce to everyone that you are shagging the git." She opened her mouth to retort and he tsked loudly, "Don't lie, it's not attractive. I see those hickeys on your neck, Granger. It's quite obvious what happened last night between the two of you."

He had no idea she could move that fast. One minute, Hermione was against the wall, the next, she was kicking Draco in the shins. "You bloody prat! How dare you? Now I have to hide them! Do you know how hard it is to hide hickeys?! Hell, I don't even know how I'm going to hide them!"

Sighing softly, he waited for her to pause in her shouting before cutting her off, "Granger, focus on the task at hand, not the idiot." When she stopped to look at him, he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Honestly, control yourself. Very well…I think that you should just act normal around those idiots you call friends. Don't worry about your relationship with Draco; don't focus on that at all. Just think about having a good time."

"He's right." Draco rubbed his head, sitting up, looking quite dishevelled after his attack. "Don't worry about us; just think of the now. I told you, Hermione, you think too much. Go there, have fun, be happy, if you want, tell your parents, but don't tell anyone else. To be honest, the only people in that group who won't be prejudiced at all are your parents."

"I suppose you're both right…I'm just worried that Ron might try to trick me or something…"

"If you fall for one of his tricks, I'm leaving you," Draco replied with a hard look. "Honestly, that idiot couldn't trick a rock if he tried. You're too smart to fall for any 'Come and look at my room' or 'Hey, come stand beside me and ignore the mistletoe' tricks."

"Besides," Blaise added, "I heard from a certain blonde girl that you made a promise. I didn't know Gryffindors broke their promises."

Sighing heavily, her head fell into her hands. "I hate you two; I would really rather spend my day here."

"I know," the blond replied. "But, you have no choice. You promised that Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Fucking-Die, and a promise is a promise. Go, have fun, enjoy yourself, and don't worry."

Getting to her feet, she rubbed her face. "Why does it still feel like I'm going to my funeral?"

"Because you now know that your friends are real prats," Draco offered, getting to his feet as well.

Blaise was already on his feet, brushing his pants off. "Just listen to us Granger; we're smarter than we look. If you want, I'll keep the git occupied until you come back."

Draco finally glared at the brunet at the insult, resisting the urge to kick the man in the shins. "Fuck you, Blaise."

"I don't mind, you'll be the one stuck with him. I'd really like it if you could bake cookies or something," she added with a mischievous smile.

"No baking in the Heads' Tower, I already told you that," Draco snapped.

"But…I have a lovely pink apron for you," she added as her smile grew at the look on Blaise's face.

"We'll bake you fifty batches of cookies," Blaise replied, grabbing hold of Draco's arm. "Won't it be fun?"

"Fuck you even more, Blaise," he spat, elbowing the man in the ribs.

Heading to the statue of Aphrodite, she smiled over to Draco. "You know, I really like cookies."

"I'll only bake those damn cookies on one condition."

"That is?"

He moved over to cup her face, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. "You have to be back before 9 o'clock. No later, but I'm fine if you decide to come back sooner."

Hugging him to her, she smiled into his neck. "You know that I am going to miss you, right?"

"I'll miss you too. Just don't let Weasel do anything; I'll hex his balls off and magic them into his nose."

Laughing, she turned and spoke the password to the statue, gesturing for Blaise to come as well. Maybe today wasn't going to be her funeral after all; life couldn't be that bad if she knew that the man she loved would miss her. Hell, she hated to admit it, but she thought that she had just made a new friend.

"I have a pink apron for you, too, Blaise," she added with a smile, watching the man pale at the idea.

Maybe things weren't going to be as bad as she'd thought.

* * *

**There we go, Chapter 24 is completed. We have just Chapter 25 and the Epilogue left, and this fic is done.**

**As I've stated on my profile page, I will, once this is complete, be posting a poll asking the readers what the title of my next fic (the sequel) should be. I have a few ideas in mind, but I'm just not 100% sure.**

**I hope that this fic was super enjoyable for you all. I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who wished me a happy anniversary. It was amazing, fancy dinner in a Portuguese restaurant, homemade dessert, watching a movie. Very nice, very relaxing…a perfect night. (The pumpkin pie crisp turned out quite nicely; it was very good!)**

**Anyway…I wasn't 100% sure about the last bit, but I just felt like I needed to add it. Consider it to be filler of sorts, I suppose. **

**So, review overview and then the recipe**

**Flames: while nonexistent, any flame that might have been given up to do has been used to fuel the fire in this chapter. And all future chapters.**

**Adoration/Love: they increase my ego and decrease the amount of time it takes for me to post the next chapter. It's because you guys that I was able to go so far. **

**Critical criticism/editing: very much appreciated. Please, if you see mistakes, specify where, what chapter, and what the mistake was in your review. **

**Thank you guys. Really, thanks!**

**Recipe!**

**Strawberry LEMON Slices**

**Ingredients:**

**Crust**

1 ½ cups (375 mL) all purpose flour

½ cup (125 mL) icing sugar

¼ tsp (1 mL) salt

¾ cup (175 mL) cold butter, cold

**Filling**

4 eggs

1 can (300 mL) regular or low fat sweetened condensed milk

½ cup (125 mL) lemon juice

2 tbsp (30 mL) lemon zest

1 jar (250 mL) pure strawberry jam

Preheat oven to 350 F (180 C). Line a 9" x 13" (3 L) baking dish with parchment paper, overlapping the longer sides for easy removal.

**Crust**: Pour flour, icing sugar, and salt in bowl of food processor fitted with metal blade. Pulse until blended. Add cold, cubed butter and process mixture until it looks like little crumbs, about 15 seconds. Transfer mixture to prepared pan and press firmly onto the bottom of pan.

Bake in preheated oven 15 – 18 minutes, until edges are golden.

**Filling:** In a large bowl, beat the eggs with a handheld whisk until they are well mixed. Add the sweetened condensed milk and beat until it is fully incorporated. Whisk in lemon juice and zest.

Spread jam over hot crust. Pour filling over and bake for 25 – 30 minutes, or until filling has set.

Cool bar in the pan on wire rack. When cold dust with icing sugar and slice.

**Enjoy. ****I think I chose a good recipe, eh? Lol.**

**Thank you!**


	26. Merry Christmas, Mr Malfoy

**Warning: very long chapter. Wanted to cut it short but I just couldn't. **

**Slight lemony goodness at some point in time, will not give any further warning. Don't like it, don't read it. You have been warned and will not be warned again, so don't complain if you didn't read this bit.**

**Response to basshunterwasneverhere: I well...know what sex feels like because I've had sex. Lol. I'm almost 21, been in a relationship for 5 years, and the no-sex-before-marriage thing just wasn't for me. Lol.  
**

**Chapter 25**

**Merry Christmas, Mr. Malfoy**

"I don't know if I can do this."

"Why?"

"Because…it's just weird…I mean, I feel like it's been forever and…so much has changed…"

"They don't have to know that. Honestly, Hermione, they're the same people as they were before the break."

Hermione stood just outside of the front gate of the Burrow, clad from head to toe in winter gear, shuffling her feet back and forth in a nervous manner. Luna stood beside her, dressed in the same manner – although her earmuffs were shaped like onions –, trying her hardest to get the brunette to just pass the gate.

"I know," she sighed, looking up to the cloudy sky. "But…what if I do something weird? What if they ask me a bunch of questions I can't answer? I just…even though they're the same; I'm not. I've changed, Luna and…it's too soon for them to know it."

"Then keep it a secret," the blonde sighed, ushering the girl towards the gate. "Don't let them know a thing."

"I suppose…I mean, it is Christmas Eve…we're supposed to have fun, right?" Hermione's eyes flashed with sudden determination. "Yes, we're supposed to have fun so I'm going to have fun."

"That's the spirit." Luna opened the door and called into the home. "Hi everyone!"

Molly's head popped out from the kitchen and her eyes widened with shock. "Hermione! Oh my, Hermione…I'm so glad to see you!" she cried, rushing out of the kitchen to take the poor girl into her arms. "We've all missed you so much. When you decided to stay…we were worried you didn't want to spend Christmas with us. I'm so glad you came."

Managing to reach out and lower her scarf, Hermione smiled at the older woman. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, Mrs. Weasley; I just had a lot of Heads' work to do that I just couldn't ignore. I'm glad I was able to come here today." She prayed that the older woman believed the lie; she knew exactly how Molly would react if she told her that she'd fallen in love with Draco Malfoy.

She would be disowned fifty times over and then beat to near death.

"I know all about that Heads' work, Harry told us all about it. I completely understand if you were so busy; I just Minerva could have given you a few more days off." Sighing heavily, the pulled away from the girl and smiled at her. "Everyone else is outside, playing in the snow. Arthur had to go to the Ministry to fix something up, but he'll be back by supper. Your parents are in the kitchen, I'll send them right out."

Hermione sent a silent prayer to Harry, thanking him for his kindness. He could have easily told them a variety of other lies, hell; he could have even told them that she was shagging Draco.

'_Harry_,' she thought, '_you may be a prat some times, but you really come through. Thank you.'_

Luna smiled over to Hermione, taking off her boots. "I'll be outside with everyone else," she said before disappearing down the hallway.

Seconds after Molly had rushed away from the brunette, an older couple came down the hall. Hermione had to admit; she definitely had her father's eyes and mother's hair. Her mother was almost a spitting image of her with the exception of a few gray hairs and wrinkles here or there. Her father was tall and lean, with hair that was lighter in colour and a faint beard along his jaw.

"Hermione," her mother said, reaching out to embrace her daughter. "I'm so glad that you were able to make it."

"I'm sorry for causing so much trouble," she repeated, voice muffled by her mother's shoulder.

"Harry explained everything," her father, Robert, said, standing aside to watch his wife and daughter embrace. "He said that you had some extra work."

Pulling out of her mother's arms, she unzipped her jacket and hung it near the door. Her scarf, hat, and other winter gear swiftly followed, and she made sure that her boots were off before replying. "I…well…I have something I have to tell you."

Frowning with confusion, Jean Granger looked down at her daughter. "What do you mean?"

"It's about why I stayed behind."

"Harry told us," her father repeated, "you had duties to attend to."

Twisting her hands in nervousness, she slowly shook her head. "Not exactly…I…let's go to somewhere more private; I don't want everyone listening in." Without waiting for a response, she began to make her way up the stairs, looking for a more isolated bedroom. She knew that her parents would follow; they wanted to know every little thing when it came to their daughter's life.

She wasn't sure just when she had realized that she'd wanted to tell them the truth. It had probably been from the get go. Even though she and her parents had not always had the perfect parents-child relationship, she just couldn't lie to them. She trusted them to understand and love her no matter what happened, and it was the same for her.

Besides, there was an immense bonus in having Muggle parents. I would be a lot easier describing Draco and his changes to them as opposed to the Weasley family; her family barely knew a thing about the Malfoys and the Wizarding world. They would not be biased or prejudiced in their opinions of the man she'd fallen in love with.

They would listen and love her; it didn't matter who she loved so long as the person treated her with respect and love.

Knocking before entering, she stepped into Ginny's room, closing the door behind her parents.

"You can sit if you want," she said, knowing fully well that she'd rather pace than sit down.

Her parents took a seat on the edge of Ginny's bed and she began to pace back and forth, twisting her hands in anxiety. How was she supposed to go about this? What was the best way to tell her parents that she was in love with someone whose family had wanted to kill people like her and her family?

How was she supposed to tell them that she'd lied; that she had not stayed behind for work, but because she just couldn't stand staying away from Draco?

"Harry lied," she blurted out, spinning around to face her parents. Their shocked expressions hurt her, the disappointment in her father's eyes making it clear that he understood; if Harry lied, then she had lied.

"I…I didn't stay behind for school work; I finished all of it before the holidays. I…it's difficult for me to say." She ran her hands through her hair before shoving them in her pockets. "I'm in love."

Their reactions were not at all what she had expected; her mother leapt to her feet and let out a rather loud, girlish squeal, while her father crossed his arms and grinned proudly.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so happy for you!" Jean cried, hugging Hermione tightly. "Who is he? When can we meet him? Is that why you stayed behind? Was this your first Christmas together? Oh, Robert, dear, our little girl is in _love_!"

"What I want to know," her father said slowly, the grin beginning to fade just the slightest as his eyes hardened, "is why you had to keep this a secret and how come you can't say it to anyone else."

She definitely got her brains from her father…

"That's right," Jean said slowly, pulling away to look at her daughter. "Your father makes a point; how come you're not announcing it to everyone."

"Please sit down, mum, I'll explain everything; it's a bit of a long story."

The second her mother was seated, she let out a heavy sigh and resisted an urge to run a hand over her face; she was wearing make-up (for once) and couldn't ruin it. Damn Draco and his idiotic ideas; wear make-up to make that Weasel want her more, and then refuse him so much he'll cry. Honestly, that man was such a sadist.

"His name is Draco Malfoy, he's the same age as me and we've known each other for years. He and I…we weren't on very good terms for the first several years at Hogwarts and the Weasleys are not very fond of his family. His father…he thought that blood was very important, and if you were anything but a Pureblood, you were beneath him. He hated all Muggles – people who do cannot use magic – and was part of a very powerful group who wanted to exterminate them and make the Wizarding world completely Pureblooded."

Her parents looked at her with confusion and she pulled over a chair, sitting down in front of them. "His father was a Death Eater; he tortured and killed many people and made his son believe that anyone who was Half-blood or Muggle-born, and those associated with them, were bad. In a way, he brainwashed his son."

"But…hold on…Death Eater's…they…I'm not exactly hundred percent clear on this," her father admitted.

Scratching her head, she shifted on the uncomfortable chair. "I suppose the Muggle version of a Death Eater would…and this is an extreme … a Nazi. They wanted to exterminate anyone who did not fit into their 'perfect world.' Their leader is the man who tried to kill Harry when he was a baby."

"That horrible Voldie-fellow? her mother asked, eyes wide.

Not even questioning her mother's 'nickname' for the deceased villain, she nodded. "Yes. Draco's father followed him and killed many people in the name of Purebloods. For the most part of our years at Hogwarts, Draco believed in the same ideals as his father; like I said, he was, in a way, brainwashed. He believed that I was beneath him, called me nasty names and he constantly got into fights with Harry and Ron because of their association with me and other people like myself."

"How can you love a man like that?" her father suddenly snapped, eyes flashing. "If he was so horrible to you, how can you possibly love him?"

Lifting a hand in a way of placating her father, she smiled softly. "I'm getting to that part, don't worry dad."

"I feel bad for him," her mother said softly, earning a surprised look from the other two in the room. "I mean…the poor boy, forced to live with such a horrible man for a father. He would probably beat his son and verbally abused him until he started acting 'appropriately.' What a horrible life, being forced to believe in such things, unable to have a mind of your own." Wiping at her suddenly glistening eyes, Jean let out a soft sigh. "That poor boy."

Hermione wanted to hug her mother; she'd always been so open-minded and understanding when it came to people and their reasons behind their actions. Her mother was such a kind woman.

"You're right, mum," Hermione said. "His father was not very caring or loving at all. Sometime in our sixth year, Draco finally began to understand that what his father forced him to believe was wrong. He started pulling away from the world his father had forced him into and, from what I understand, he went to Dumbledore that year and became a double-agent. He would pretend to be a Death Eater so that he could gather information for the Order. It was a secret; no one knew about it except for Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall.

"In the end, some of the information he gave us proved to be very useful in the defeat of Voldemort. Later on, when it was revealed that he was a part of the Order, our spy that we could never meet, Harry and Ron didn't take it very well."

"What did they do?"

Hermione almost jumped; her parents were sitting forward, staring at her avidly, listening to every single word. She had no idea that Draco's past could be that interesting.

"They attacked him and they would have killed him if I hadn't intervened. After that, Draco and I talked privately and, while we both agreed that his change of heart would never take away the pain he had caused me throughout my childhood, we would hold a truce. To be honest, I would have enjoyed working with him if we hadn't already caught the remaining Death Eaters.

"This year, when we found out we received the positions of Head Girl and Boy, we extended the truce some more and became acquaintances. We have a lot in common; we're both intelligent, we enjoy intellectual conversation and arguments, and, hell, we also live to annoy each other. I suppose that, throughout the year, we started developing a friendship. Then, at the beginning of the month, I found out that he had never had a real Christmas."

"You wanted to give him a beautiful Christmas, didn't you?" her father asked with something resembling a smile gracing his face.

"Yes…and in the process, we started to fall in love. I know…I know that he has not always been the greatest person alive; I know that Harry, Ron and the Weasleys would probably hate me forever because of our relationship, but I love Draco and I know that he loves me."

"I know that this may be a little off," her mother said, "but…I was wondering what happened to his father."

"I've never told anyone this," Hermione admitted quietly. She began to tug and twist her hands as anxiety began to slowly creep back into her heart. "Not even Harry or Ron. His father…well, during the last battle at Hogwarts, I got separated from Harry and Ron. I was trying to find my way back to them, but instead his father found me. We fought, I was gaining the upper hand when his father pulled a cheap move and hurt me. I had dropped my wand and was reaching for it when Draco appeared out of nowhere. To be honest, I thought that he was going to kill me."

"He saved you," Jean said, tears running down her cheeks.

"Yes," she replied softly, nodding her head. "He killed his father, helped me back to my feet, and stayed with me until I found Harry and Ron. When I tried to tell them what happened, they didn't believe me; Draco had run off and I couldn't bring myself to tell them the truth. I suppose; he'd been waiting for years to finally kill his father; the man had been so abusive and cruel to his son and wife. In a way, in saving me, he freed himself."

"Oh, Hermione, dear, this man…you must love him so much!" her mother cried, leaning into her father as he rubbed her back. "He must be so kind, so sweet…he's had such a rough life."

"I would like to meet him," her father admitted. "I want to meet the man that saved my daughter's life and thank him."

"You…you do? You don't hate him for how he used to treat me? For how his father was?" Hermione was sincerely amazed.

"No," Robert said. "Hermione, he must truly be a strong man to go against everything he used to believe in, to get away from the abuse of his father and believe in the right thing. Hermione, you love him, don't you?" She nodded firmly, without hesitation or embarrassment. "That's more than enough for me. I want to meet him, thank him, and make sure that he never does anything horrible to you."

"Father!" she cried, blushing darkly. "You can't threaten him!"

"I won't be threatening him, just making sure that if he ever got my baby pregnant, he'll stay with you, and that if he ever considers cheating on your or breaking your heart, I'll pull out every single one of his teeth. Without anaesthetic."

"Dad!"

"If he does mistreat you, I'll remind him of his father," Jean said softly. "I'll tell him that he's being exactly like the man he killed. I think that would be the worst pain of all, wouldn't it?"

"Mum," she said, voice softer this time as warmth enveloped her at the reminder of her parents' love. "I know Draco; he'll never hurt me. I trust him and he trusts me. We love each other."

"I still want to meet the man my daughter ditched her family for at Christmas," her father replied. "He had better of been worth it."

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," she suddenly said, reminded her of her callousness by her father's words, although it had not been his intentions. "I should have warned you or…"

Her mother reached forward and gently rubbed her shoulder. "Hermione, love happens without warning, do not worry. I'm just glad that it wasn't something frivolous, such as the comfort of the beds or something."

Swallowing thickly, she nodded. "Thank you, mum and dad, for willing to understand me."

"You're our daughter, Hermione, we will always love you, no matter who you fall in love with." Robert pulled her daughter forward into a tight hug. "But I still want to meet him."

"I'm just happy that you're not in love with Ron."

"Mum!" Hermione cried, staring at her mother in shock. "Why would you say such a thing? He's still my friend."

Her mother shrugged, not showing a sign of regret or embarrassment over her words. "You two don't fit; the kid's in love with you, but I just don't see you two together. You would probably get too irritated with him and kill him."

Her father let out a rather loud laugh, something Hermione felt her had emphasized on purpose. "Your mother is right," he said. "That boy is too immature for you. Besides, he can hardly say he loves you; he sits and mopes instead of going after you. That's not love, just some puppy crush."

"Mum, dad," Hermione hissed. "Be quiet, you know if someone is listening in or not."

"You know it's true," her mother said as she stood, adjusting her long skirt. "Now this Draco fellow, what has he done for you?"

Smiling softly as she recalled every little thing Draco has done for her, she said, "He loved me, he stood up for me, he drank my hot chocolate even when he was angry with me, he carried me when I was hurt, he held me when I cried…"

"He loves you, Hermione. Ron doesn't…he thinks that he does, but he doesn't," her mother said softly.

"You're right, mum." Standing, she looked at her parents. They may have not spent much time together in the past several years, they may have not been the ideal perfect family, but they loved, understood, and respected each other. "You won't tell anyone I told you this, right? I'm waiting for the right time to tell Ron and Harry the truth and I just can't bring myself to ruin their Christmas."

"You have our word," Robert said, following his wife and daughter's actions. "What I want to know is what made my daughter cry."

Hermione laughed as she reached the door. "It was a movie, dad."

"Oh dear, did you cry watching The Fox and The Hound again?" her mother said as they stepped out of the bedroom. "Because that's nothing to be ashamed about; I know a lot of people who have cried watching that film."

"Mother!" she cried, cheeks red with embarrassment. "No, I did not cry watching that movie!"

"I could have sworn you did," Jean said thoughtfully as they made their way downstairs, "I recall coming into the living room one day and you had used up an entire box of Kleenex. You get such a runny nose when you cry, it's awful."

Sighing heavily, Hermione knew that this was going to be one long day; she knew her parents well enough to know that, in recompense for keeping her secret, they would tell as many embarrassing stories about her as possible.

* * *

It was strange how she felt so comfortable and yet uncomfortable at the same time. Everyone acted as though nothing bad had happened, and Ron seemed a little more demanding of her attention than usual, but she constantly felt their eyes on her, their ears perked just a bit, as though waiting for her to say or do something wrong.

If it had not been for Bill, Charlie and Luna, who accepted her no matter what, she would have not been able to deal with 'playing' in the backyard. They had joined her team for a snowball war, the four of them against Harry, Ron, George and Ginny, and, thanks to Hermione and Bill's magic manipulation, they had won with ease.

They could have continued playing for hours if Luna had not suddenly announced that one of her onion earrings had gone missing. They then spent a good twenty minutes searching for the earring in the shape of the root vegetable.

It had somehow ended up in a snowball tossed at Harry and had become entangled in his mass of hair.

She had been rather grateful when her mother had come asking for help, pulling her and Luna away from the fray and the constant looks Ron was giving her. She then spent the remainder of the time in the kitchen, helping the women prepare the large supper, while Arthur, who had come home an hour before, drank and talked with Robert and Percy in the living room.

Once dinner was ready, and Molly had announced so to the Quidditch players outside – they had been using snowballs as Quaffles and Bludgers – Hermione's nerved began to rise again.

Where was she going to sit? She usually sat with Harry and Ron but…Harry, she still felt rather angry with for his interruption, and Ron…he was just being bloody queer. He was constantly finding excuses to be close to her, brushing against her in the oddest way when there was more than enough room for him to pass without touching her, tossing snowballs are her chest more than her arms, and he was always saying her name.

She did not want to sit beside him; something told that he might spend his time brushing his hand against hers or rubbing his knee on hers.

It would be too damn uncomfortable.

"You can sit beside me, Hermione," Luna said cheerfully, patting the seat between her and Bill.

Thank the reigning, supreme deity for Luna; that girl was beyond a life saver. Saying quiet thanks, she placed her glass by the plate and began the process of helping Molly serve, ignoring the looks of pain Ron sent her way.

Supper was by far the most comfortable experience so far; they chattered loudly, the variety of discussions overwhelming in the bustling household. She was surprised at how they managed to fit so many people into one small kitchen. Teddy was sitting at the end of the table, between Victoire and Tonks, teaching her a variety of funny expressions. Hermione was glad to see Tonks so happy after Remus's death a few years back; she had not taken it very well as first. Audrey, Sarafina and Fleur were exchanging stories of their journeys to foreign countries, while Percy and Arthur taught Robert Wizarding politics. Molly, Tonks and Jean were discussing how to deal with overexcited toddlers, while Harry, Ron and George were roaring loudly over something the twin had said.

Hermione, all the while, was talking animatedly with Luna, Bill, and Charlie, and enjoying herself quite a bit. Nobody had pestered her about staying behind, nobody treated her like an outsider or traitor, and she was quite glad that Blaise had taught her the perfect way of hiding hickeys. She was glad that he was her newfound friend; in the short time before she'd had to leave, she had discovered that he was quite adept in magic and rather skilful at intellectual conversations. She could see and understand why Draco got along with him; he was a serious man with a playful side that came up every now and then.

"And then, you wouldn't believe it, the second he touched that dragon, the damn thing calmed down! I swear, it did it just to spite her!" Charlie said, earning a loud laugh from the other three.

"And I'm telling you, it just took out its anger and frustration on me," Sarafina said suddenly, leaning into her husband. "By the time Erik got to it, she was so tired she didn't feel like fighting anymore."

"Say what you want," Charlie said, gesturing to his fiancée, "but I still think that she has it in for you."

"I still think that Norberta was too worn out by then," Sarafina added before turning her back to her lover in order to sneak back into conversation with the other women.

"Norberta?" Hermione asked, eyes slowly widening. "You're not talking about the dragon that Hagrid…"

Charlie grinned. "The exact same one. She's become quite a beautiful creature and Hagrid loves to visit her every so often. It's too bad she's also developed quite the temper."

Bill sighed, purposely sticking several carrots into Charlie's mashed potatoes while the younger one was distracted, talking about his 'battle scars' and his dragons' tempers.

"At least you don't have to work with goblins and curses," he said suddenly. "Honestly, I don't know what's worse, wondering when I'll mess up breaking a curse or when I'll accidentally insult a goblin."

"It can't be worse than working with dragons," Charlie replied, eyes flashing as though he had just been challenged to a duel. "They can kill you."

"So can pissed off goblins," the older one said, plopping several peas into his brother's potatoes. "Hell, dragons will just burn you to a crisp or eat you, goblins will torture you."

"Prove it."

Bill rolled his eyes and fiddled with his earring, looking across to Luna and Hermione, flashing them a grin before turning to his brother. "Now, I don't want to be too explicit, so ladies, I hope you don't mind this story; it can be a bit…gory." Hermione and Luna shrugged, waiting patiently for the older man to finish. "Well, I know this one guy who pissed off a couple of female goblins. Now they're the worst; you do not mess with the women, no matter what; they know how to get their revenge. So…at night, they snuck into his room with rope, candles, whips and a variety of other stuff and they…"

"Did you turn my mashed potatoes into a penis?"

"Yes, I did; I was bored of listening to you and your dragon taming skills. Anyway, they snuck into his room, tied him to the bed, gagging him with his own underwear – and he was on a mission, so he hadn't been able to change it in days – and they…"

"You're so immature!! You made a penis out of my food!" Charlie cried, elbowing his brother in the ribs.

Hermione giggled rather loudly, earning a glare from the stocky man. "I'll get you later," he threatened, "but first, I'll have to deal with this older brother of mine."

Hermione and Luna watched and laughed as the two brothers warred with each other, using the other's plates as battlegrounds, transforming their food into a myriad of things, ranging from quills to various sex toys that Hermione did not understand how they could create pleasure.

Once Molly intervened, supper returned to its normal pace until the family and friends were stuffed and beyond satisfied. Retiring to the living room, they all sat down and began to exchange presents with Hermione; it had been agreed upon the day before that they wanted to give her their presents in person.

After having received a variety of things, ranging from a dragon's tooth necklace from Charlie to a hand-knit scarf, glove and hat set from Molly, Hermione's attention was finally drawn to the last two gifts, which were from Harry and Ron.

"You do know," she said suddenly, looking at everyone with a flustered expression, "you really should have told me; I would have brought all of your gifts."

"We'll get yours tomorrow," Percy said with a wave of the hand. "We just wanted to see your expression when you got ours. I really do hope you like the book I got you."

"I love it," she replied, hugging the thick tome to her chest. "I…thank you everyone," she added with a faint blush. "You're all so kind to me, even though I haven't spent much of the Christmas vacation with you."

Arthur smiled over at her, leaning back in his chair. "Hermione, do not worry; we know that you've been very busy with school work. We understand that your studies and duties will have to come before things sometimes; it's a part of life. We're just happy that you were able to join us."

Nodding, she reached over to pick up Harry's gift and, upon unwrapping it, let out a loud cry of shock and joy.

"Harry! You didn't have to!" In her hands was a delicate, golden quill; an everlasting phoenix feather quill.

"You go through so many of them," he replied with a grin. "And you use quills so often; I thought that it'd be nice to finally get you a nice one. Don't worry," he added when she opened her mouth to speak, "it was not as expensive as you think it was."

"Oh Harry!" she cried, reaching over to pull him into a tight hug. "Thank you." Then she added in a quiet whisper, "and thank you for everything else. You didn't have to."

He held her and whispered back; "I know, but I just wanted everyone to be happy. You don't deserve to be assault on Christmas."

She tightened her hug quickly before letting him go, grinning broadly. Gently placing the quill back into its case, she reached for the last gift.

"I got it last minute," Ron blurted. "I…I'm sorry if it's not as nice as Harry's."

Unable to look the man in the eye, knowing fully well why it had been bought last minute, she fought back the annoyance and forced a smile. "It's okay, Ron, I'm sure that whatever it is, it will be wonderful."

Unwrapping it, she had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised to find a rather heavy book on Hippogriffs and other mythical animals.

"Wow Ron, thanks; I really like it," she said.

He shrugged and widened his arms, as though expecting her to hug him. To say that she didn't want to was an understatement; she barely wanted to touch him after all of the little 'accidental' touches he had done all day. But she had to keep up appearances and not at all act enraged or frustrated towards the redhead.

Moving forward, she gave him a quick and uncomfortable hug and was about to pull away when he tightened his hold.

"You feel so good," he suddenly whispered in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear. "I'm sorry for everything, Hermione…I just…I just need you so much. I love you Hermione…please…spend the night." She felt his hands shift around her, fingers stretching to touch the edges of her breasts.

Her stomach threatened to revolt at the thought of any other man but Draco touching her in such a way.

"I…I can't Ron," she managed to choke out without choking him. "I have duties to attend to in the morning and I'll get in trouble for spending the night away from Hogwarts."

"Please…just one night," he whispered as a finger gently rubbed against her breast.

She felt as sick, uncomfortable beyond discomfort, and she did not know whether she wanted to cry or hit him when his fingers touched her. Even though it was through her clothes, she felt cold, as though something freezing had been pressed against her skin.

She didn't know exactly how to describe it; all she knew was that she could not stand the feel of it.

Pulling away abruptly, she smiled broadly to fight the urge to glare and attack. "Thank you for the gifts everyone. Now, why don't we have pudding? I can't stay too late; I'll get in trouble."

Unaware of what had just happened, the others grinned and agreed and Hermione made sure to station herself between Bill and Charlie; something told her that they would protect her from Ron and his 'urges.' Once the dessert was eaten and everyone pleasantly stuffed, again, Hermione gently refused to stay for a cup of tea.

"I'm quite full," she said softly, tucking her presents into a bag. "And I have to be back at the castle in five minutes. I'm sorry, but I just can't stay any later."

Molly sighed softly. "Okay, dear. I suppose I'll only see you again at the end of year ceremony." Reaching forward, she pulled the woman into a hug. "Don't overdo it, Hermione dear, and take care of yourself."

"I will Molly," she replied, voice muffled by Molly's shoulder. She began to wrap her new scarf around her throat, tucking it into her jacket.

"We'll miss you, dear," her mother said, pulling her into a hug just after she got her gloves on. "Please, let us know if anything happens, okay?"

"I will," Hermione promised, pulling out to hug her father. "I'll owl you right away if anything happens."

She knew exactly what they were talking about; she had promised her mother and father that she would try and arrange a day, just after the New Year, for her and Draco to visit her parents' house. She was certain Headmistress McGonagall wouldn't mind.

"I love you, mum and dad," she said softly, grinning at her parents. "Be nice to those patients of yours, and stop scaring the children by threatening to pull out their teeth."

Her mother laughed and watched as Hermione waved goodbye to everyone else. "Happy Christmas everyone," she said with a grin, glancing quickly over to Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Luna to add; "I'll see you all at the end of Christmas break."

She opened the door, hearing a chorus of "Happy Christmas" in the background, before waving and saying a quick goodbye and thanks before stepping out and shutting the door behind her. She was about halfway to the gate when she heard the door open again.

Turning around, expecting to find Luna ready to grace her with her wise words, she was surprised and anxious when finding Ron standing outside.

"Ron," she said. "I…is something wrong?"

He was fumbling with his hands, a nervous gesture of his that he had developed years ago, and his ears were growing a bright red. She did not like the look of this.

"I…why can't you spend the night?" he asked, taking a step forward.

Sighing heavily, she rubbed her temple, slowly backing her way towards the gate; she didn't trust him enough to have her back to him. "I told you; I have duties in the morning and I will get in trouble. I can't; my duty as a Head Girl and school rules prohibit me from spending the night."

"Would you…could at least give me a Christmas kiss?"

She was afraid that it might come to this; how was she supposed to refuse him without hurting his feelings or letting everyone know that she was in love with Draco? Was she supposed to say without instigating another fight?

"I can't, Ron," she replied softly, moving a little quicker towards the gate, knowing that the second she passed it, she could Apparate away from the Burrow.

"Why?" He took several steps forward.

"Because I just can't," she replied.

"Hermione," he suddenly snapped, earning a jump from her. "Charlie said that Harry said you weren't in love with Malfoy. They said that there was still some chance for us. If you refuse me…you'll be saying that they were lying. You'll be refusing me because you love Malfoy."

"That's not at all the reason!" she cried, waving a hand in the air. "People don't refuse to kiss other people just because they're in love with someone else. It can be a whole bunch of reasons; they don't love them, they're not ready, they don't want a commitment…a variety of reasons. Just because I don't want to kiss you doesn't mean I'm in love with someone else." She was two steps away from the gate.

"Hermione," he said, moving forward to close the distance between them. "You will kiss me. You know I love you, you know my feelings about you, and you cannot refuse me. By refusing me, you will be admitting you love Draco Malfoy."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" she cried. "Do you realize how insane you sound right now? I don't want to kiss you, so I must be in love with Draco? Have you been drinking Firewhisky?"

"I have not been drinking," he shouted. At this moment, she was more grateful that he hadn't noticed her use of Draco's first name rather than his last. "And I am not insane. I love you, Hermione! Why can't you see it? Why can't you understand that you love me too?"

"Because, Ron," she said softly, slowly opening the gate, "I'm just not ready to fall in love right now, and," she had to choke out the lie, "I'm afraid that if I kiss you, I'll fall in love with you."

"Really?" he asked, stopping mid-step.

"Yes," she said. "I care about you, I love you but, right now, it's not in the way you love me. I'm just not ready for a relationship right now. Please…please understand…"

"When will you be ready?" he asked, hope making his eyes glow.

"I'll let you know," she said, knowing that, when she was ready to tell him, he would be heartbroken. "Happy Christmas, Ron."

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he replied, watching as she disappeared.

* * *

"You are two hours late."

"I know," she sighed, gently placing her bag of gifts onto the kitchen table. "I'm sorry Draco; Molly just wouldn't stop hugging me, and then there was a small snowstorm and I got stuck at Hogsmeade until it finally cleared. And then, once I got back, I had to notify Headmistress McGonagall that I was back and…well, it's a long story," she finished with another sigh.

"Did the ginger try anything?"

Looking over, watching as Draco unfolded his body from the chair to move and stand beside her, she sighed heavily, pulling out several of the gifts. "Not really."

"Not really means he did try something," Draco said, reaching out to grab the book Percy had given her. "'European Botany, Your Guide to all Plants, from Alchemy to Remedies,' sounds…boring," he said.

"I think it sounds fascinating," she snapped, grabbing the book from his hands to place it on the table beside the set Molly had knit for her.

"Who got you the necklace?" he asked, picking up the piece of jewellery Charlie and Sarafina had given her. He had to admit; it was quite a beautiful piece. The teeth had been smoothed down and sharpened, whitened to the point that they shone in the light, and several gems had been embedded into them. It was not entirely of teeth; it was a long, silver chain, with a series of five teeth hanging in the middle, gradually growing in size until the middle one, which was the longest and most beautiful.

"Charlie and Sarafina; they made it themselves, and Bill helped procure the gems," she said, reaching out to place it beside the book.

"They have nice taste," Draco admitted. "So, what did Weasel do?"

"He hugged me," she replied, pulling out the gifts Bill had given her.

"I'll kill him."

Glancing over, amused at Draco's reaction, she debated whether or not to tell him that Ron had also tried to 'cop a feel.'

"What's that?"

Pulled out of her reveries by Draco's words, she looked over at Bill's gift, or well…gifts. For the strangest reason, he and Fleur had given her a secret gift on the side; a matching red and green striped thong and bra set. She had an inkling that it was Bill's idea of a joke and Fleur was to be taken seriously. Bill, however, had said something that had made Hermione shake with anxiety.

"_I figured a certain someone might really like to see you in it."_

Hell, the bastard had even winked at her.

Then, almost as though she had 'caught' him, or perhaps he realized that the words had caused dread in her, he laughed, adding; "_Ron will definitely hate the idea of you wearing green, even though it is festive."_

"Bill and Fleur's gift," she said, gesturing to the bottle of perfume that lay underneath it. How Fleur had managed to procure a bottle of Gertrude Flencher's famously expensive perfume, Engel, still amazed her. "It smells quite nice, although a little expensive for my tastes. But, Fleur insisted that it be about time I get something nice."

Rolling his eyes, Draco reached forward and picked up the faintly see-through, barely there, thong. Waving it in front of her eyes, he poked her in the stomach. "I mean this, you dolt. Don't tell me this is from ginger-boy."

"It is not," she sighed, grabbing the underwear and stuffing it into her jeans' pocket. "It's from his older brother."

"Which one? The funny one, the stick-up-the-arse one, the dragon-boy, or the badass?"

"I'll assume that the badass is Bill, so yes, it is from the badass," she said nonchalantly, pulling out more of her gifts.

"What's this bastard doing giving you dirty underwear as presents?"

Turning around to face Draco, she was quite surprised to see his face twisted with a violent expression. His voice had lowered to a snarl and his eyes darkened to a vicious, black grey. Dropping all things, she reached out to touch his shoulders in an attempt to placate him.

"No, Draco, you've got it all wrong. It was Fleur's idea, not Bill's. They're married, remember? He treated it like a joke; she chose the underwear and he chose the colours, thinking it would be funny for a Gryffindor to wear green. Called it festive or something…but, Draco, there was absolute zero sexual connotation behind the gift. None." She spoke rapidly, hoping to ease his temper as quickly as possible in order to avoid a massacre at the Burrow.

Slowly, the viciousness faded from his face and he looked down at her with uncertainty glimmering in his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, positive."

As his body relaxed under her touch, she let out a quiet sigh of relief before moving back to pulling out the remainder of her gifts.

"I suppose," Draco added after a moment of silence, twirling the bra around his finger, "that he does have good taste."

Rolling her eyes, she finally managed to unearth the last present. It, like Bill and Fleur's, was a secret present, but this one she treasured the most. Placing it gently aside, she saw Draco stop all actions as his eyes fell on it.

Silence filled the room as the couple stared at the gift; it was simple and lovely, a plain black frame with silver and gold wires wrapped around it. Just past the frame, held by it, was a photograph of Hermione and Draco, standing proudly in front of a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. They smiled at each other, the couple in the photograph staring at nothing but each other as the Christmas lights illuminated their faces.

"Luna gave it to me," Hermione said softly before Draco could ask.

"She has good taste," was all he could say.

Tossing her eyes heavenwards a second time, she nudged him in the ribs. "Honestly, that's all you can come up with right now? Really, how sad," she sighed, gathering half of her gifts and making her way to her bedroom.

"Well, the only one thing I'm thinking about is how sexy you'll look in that little outfit," Draco said, causing her to stop mid-step.

"You are sure a pervert," she replied with a loud sigh. "Come here."

Grinning, thinking that she was going to give him a lovely Christmas gift, he rushed over, smiling like a child…well, like a child on Christmas morning.

His hopes were dashed when she reached out and yanked the bra away from him before marching back up the stairs. Honestly, did all men think with their penises?

A good ten minutes later, she came back downstairs, having changed into a comfortable, oversized t-shirt, and was quite surprised to find Draco sitting on the couch in front of the fire, holding a small box in his hands.

"Took long en…Hermione, do you realize how much I want to shag you when you wear that?" he gawked, jaw literally hanging open at the sight of her wearing only the t-shirt. Damn, it made her legs look miles long and clung in just the right places.

"Yes, you told me that last night, and no, I'd like to wait a few minutes so that I can put my things away," she replied, moving over to the kitchen table. She wasn't going to ask about the box; she knew better than that. Draco would mention it when he wanted to.

"Come here," he said softly. At her look, he added, "I have something for you."

Sitting on the couch beside him, she tucked her legs under her body and couldn't help but eye the wrapped box in his hands. "Yes?"

"I…I know it's a bit early…it's only eleven-thirty…but…Happy Christmas," he stammered out, blushing like a preteen boy on his first date with his school crush. He shoved the box onto her lap and was unable to look her in the eyes.

Grinning from ear to ear, she resisted the urge to make this situation even more embarrassing for him; that damn man had never given a girl he liked a present before. Well, she would be damned.

Picking up the box, she began to unwrap; taking her time by following and unfolding the lines, unwilling to tear the shimmering silver paper. Once the plain, cardboard box was unearthed, she slowly opened the lid.

There were two items in the box; the first was a simple silver and gold bracelet, the thin pieces of metal twined and wrapped around each other. Where both metals met, there was a single blue sapphire that twinkled and shimmered in the light.

"I…I did some research…I found out that it's your birthstone," he said softly. "The bracelet is magically altered to stretch without breaking, and it won't come off unless you want it to."

"It's beautiful," she murmured. It was so intricate, so delicate, and yet so simple. He knew her so well, she realized dimly. He knew that she didn't want something over-extravagant or exquisite. Simple and beautiful was what she loved.

Sliding it onto her left wrist, she watched it dangled and play with the firelight for a moment before turning to her other gift. Frowning, she picked up her copy of 'Hogwarts: A History.' Confused, she looked over her copy, wondering if this was some kind of joke, until she opened the book.

On the first page, just after the cover, was the most beautiful sight of all. It was a slightly crumpled image of her cupping Draco's face, lips halfway to his, lost in a moment of love and passion. It was embedded into the page, now a permanent part of her favourite book.

"You read it all the time," he said. "I figured that, well…you might want something nice in it to remind of you of, well, us…"

Dropping the book to her lap, she turned to gaze at him with tears glistening in her eyes. "I shouldn't be willing to cry," she said. "I really shouldn't, it's so silly of me…but…your present, it's so…so wonderful…I love it, Draco. I love both of them."

Grinning, he leaned down over her, gently cupping her face. "I knew you would," he whispered before taking her lips in a tender kiss.

Soon, the tenderness turned into a wild fire and they fumbled their way into a lying position, rolling off the couch and across the floor, finally resting with her on top of his form, pressing kiss after heated kiss along his throat.

Seconds later, his clothes were discarded and he was yanking off her t-shirt, letting out a rather loud growl of pleasure at what he saw beneath.

"That's so fucking hot on you," he snarled, yanking her down to ravage her throat. The little striped bra pushed her breasts up, cupping them perfectly, while the thong barely covered her moist center.

"Well, don't waste your time taking it off," she gasped, grasping his hair, "please…now, Draco…I need you now."

In seconds, her underwear was pushed aside and he slid into her velvet heat. Overwhelmed by the fire of arousal, they rode wave after wave of pleasure, hearts thundering with passion as their blood boiled with ecstasy. Every touch left a trail of burning pleasure, every kissed fuel the flames until they could take no more.

Crying out his name, she rode him until her body screamed with release and begged for more, hips moving until she could no longer feel them. His body jerked, a loud curse passing his lips as he came to a sudden halt, hips twitching just the slightest as the pleasure push him over the edge.

Drowning in a sea of need, he filled her to the brink, groaning out her name as her hips undulated against his, milking him for all his worth, taking him in and riding out his pleasure with a wave of her own.

Heaving loudly, she gasped into his ear, eyes shut with satisfaction as she felt his heart beat wildly against hers. Unable to move, she slowly opened her eyes to take in her surroundings. Confused as the way colours played across Draco's face, she turned her eyes to look up and smiled at the sight of the decorated tree towering over them.

"We'll have to move sometime," Draco said suddenly, a good ten minutes later. His body was sore, and he didn't really want to move, wishing he could spend the rest of his life under Hermione's body, but they just couldn't lie there.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, half-asleep by this time.

He shifted under her, probably to get a better look at the clock hanging over the fireplace, and replied, "Just after midnight."

She grinned broadly against his cheek, nuzzling his throat. Damn that Luna; she wanted to laugh. The blonde had to have been some kind of fortune teller. She was probably amazing at Clue; it was under the tree, on Christmas morning, with…well…the naughty outfit Bill and Fleur bought at Christmas.

Something along those lines…

"I suppose that means it's Christmas, doesn't it?" she muttered instead of laughing, unwilling to ruin the moment.

"I suppose it is," Draco replied, running a hand lazily up and down her spine. "Happy Christmas, Ms. Hermione Granger."

Lifting herself up, she looked down at him and smiled tenderly. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Draco Malfoy."

* * *

**Aaaah!!**

**I know, a rather corny ending, but DAMN! I just had to do it!!**

**It's over!!!!!!!!**

**Just the Epilogue left and it's over!!!**

**I know that there are some loose ends, but they will be tied or fixed in the sequel! I'm not going to bother with a recipe for this chapter because I'm too damn lazy.**

**I hope that everyone enjoyed it. I know the scene at the Burrow took up most of it, but really, I tried to cut out as much of the useless stuff as possible. To be honest, I didn't intend for the scene between Hermione and her parents to happen, but…I like how it turned out. I always imagined her parents as being very accepting individuals, considering their daughter's situation.**

**I love you guys. Really, I do. Most of you have stuck with me from the get go, from day one last December, when I first promised to have this done by Christmas '08. **

**Well, it is now done by Thanksgiving '09, due to my laziness, stupid computer, and fast-paced lifestyle (no, not sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll, more like work, school, soccer, and love). **

**Thank you guys, to reading every word, for waiting impatiently for each update, for telling me when reading a chapter just how much you've enjoyed this. **

**Thank you guys for making me feel so happy and blessed when I've seen so many other Hermione/Draco writers get totally and utterly bashed by critics and flamers.**

**This is my first full Draco/Hermione fic and I thank you all for being so kind and patient, and, most of all, thank you guys for reading it.**

**I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!**

**My second-to-last review overview….*sniff*….I can't believe it's almost over!!!! My baby is all grown up!!!!!!**

**Reviews!**

**Adoration/Love = very much appreciated. You guys did really keep me going this whole time, gracing me with your love and kind words. Thanks. This fic is for you!!**

**Flames = gratefully, nonexistent. But, if you do want to come out of hiding and bitch at me, I shall use your fire of douchebaggery to fuel the sexual passion between Hermione and Draco.**

**Critical criticism/editing = very, very, very appreciated. You have all been kind enough to let me know when I made stupid spelling mistakes and have been more than kind enough to specify exactly where it happened and what was my mistake. Thank you guys!**

**Thank you everyone. I love you all.**

**Next chapter: Epilogue!**


	27. Epilogue

**Quick response to Blond_Gamer_Girl: I have to agree you were spot on with what I have to work with. I realized it after I wrote this, along with after reading your review, that I rarely mentioned scents or tastes. I will definitely incorporate the others senses in the sequel and future pieces I write. I used the Britishisms that I knew, but I also knew that my Canadian-style of speech/language was definitely coming out. I'm trying to get more and more into the British colloquialism, but, you know, I'm Canadian through and through, so please excuse my silly errors. However, I am glad you pointed it out because I knew I wasn't spot on when it came to that. Thank you so much for the critical criticism, I truly appreciate it. **

**Warning: long-ass epilogue. Haha. Also some lemony goodness at the end. Yum, yum. **

**Enjoy this final chapter of Hermione and Draco's journey of learning to love. **

**Last Disclaimer for this story: I own nothing and this makes me sad because something tells that I could've made money off of this fic. Meh, I'm still poor. Lame.**

**Much thanks to dail-of-the-air who pointed out a couple silly mistakes I made. You get a special batch of e-cookies. ^.^  
**

**Epilogue**

"_What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." – T.S. Eliot_

The skirt bounced around her ankles as she bounded down the hallway, unable to contain the excitement that coursed through her. Her feet slapped cheerfully against the stone floor, smile broad with joy as she hummed a familiar, seasonal tune.

He walked behind her, enjoying the sight of her jumping and dancing about, appearing carefree and as though there were nothing in the world to cause worry. He had never seen her so happy; she had always had some lines of tension across her brow, her face usually drawn in some way or form that indicated stress, her body tense from the latest anxiety-inducing event. Today, however, she was as carefree as a young child.

The second both of her feet hit the floor, he slipped behind her and twined his hands around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. She let out a soft mewling sound of pleasure and rubbed against him, unable to contain the excitement.

Lowering his head, he placed a tender kiss against her throat. "What has you in such a good mood?"

Arching back against him, revelling in the sensation of his butterfly kisses on her warming flesh, Hermione murmured back, "This is the best day of my life."

"Really?" He placed a few kisses to her exposed collarbone, rubbing her hipbone with his thumb. "Explain."

"Firstly," she replied with a soft gasp, "it's Christmas and I love Christmas. Second, my parents don't hate you." He let out a quiet laugh, smiling against her throat. "And thirdly, just two days ago, I found out that you love me."

"So fucking corny," he muttered, biting down on her skin. "I never knew you had a romantic side."

Turning in his arms to press a heated kiss to his lips, she dragged her nails down his back. "There were a lot of things you didn't know about me," she reminded him.

Sliding his hands down to cup her buttocks, he growled into the kiss, darting his tongue into her mouth to battle for dominance. Pulling away, gasping for air as warm, electrical pulses shot through his body, he muttered, "I didn't know that you were such a horny little minx."

Sultry laughter bubbled out of her throat and he felt himself harden even more. "Draco," she replied, placing several kisses to his lips, "I quite like that nickname you have for me."

"I knew you would," he said, moving his mouth down to take hers in another passionate kiss.

She pulled away, however, seconds before his lips could claim hers, and more of that sultry laughter came out of her mouth. "We can't," she said, "we'll be late for Christmas supper."

Reaching out, he grabbed her and pulled her back against him, ensuring that she felt his hardened length pressing against her thigh. "Do you really think I care about being late for supper?"

"You might not," she said with another laugh, gently pulling out of his embrace, "but I do. I love Christmas supper and besides, Dennis is saving us a couple of seats."

"How do you expect me to sit comfortably with a raging hard-on?" he replied.

Rolling her eyes, she moved to the flight of stairs and was about halfway down before she turned around to give him a broad smile. "Easy, you sit down and eat. I'm sure that you've had to deal with those…things…before. Just move it or something."

"I can't just _move _it," he snapped, rushing after her as she bounded down the stairs, acting very much like a child in a candy store.

"I've seen you do it before," she replied with a rather chiding yet cheerful tone.

"You have?" he choked out, stopping halfway down the stairs to goggle at her. "You've…since when have you been watching me?"

Rolling her eyes a second time, she turned at the base of the steps to send a reproachful look his way. "I wasn't _watching_ you, I just happened to turn and look, and I happened to see you shove your hand down your pants and shift like you were moving it. To be honest, at that point in time, it made me feel somewhat nauseous."

His slowly opened and shut his mouth for a good full minute as the shock wore away from his system. Annoyance began to replace the shock and his brow twitched uncomfortably above his left eye.

"Nauseous?"

Nodding, she flashed him another smile. "Yeah. I mean, that was before I realized how attractive you are; you were nothing but a gross git to me back at the beginning of this year. Then I realized that you are a handsome git," she laughed. "Now hurry up; I don't want to miss Headmistress McGonagall's opening speech; I want to see if she says something odd like Dumbledore used to do."

Gritting his teeth, he slowly made his way down the stairs, towering over her as he fought back the irritation of being called a git. Damn that woman; she lived to annoy the hell of out him, didn't she?

"I'm not a git," he ground out, sending her a furious glare.

Her grin broadened as she reached out and patted his shoulder. "Yes, you are," she replied, turning around and heading down the hallway.

He rushed after her, grabbing onto her arm to yank her around. She looked up at him with something resembling boredom in her eyes. "Take it back," he said.

"I can't," she sighed.

"Why?"

"Two reasons," she replied, holding up her hand to show him two fingers. "Number one; no takesey-backseys, and number two; I can't lie. If I 'took it back,' and said that you weren't a git, then I would be a lying, wouldn't I?"

"Hermione," he ground out, lowering his face to hers, leaving barely a breadth of distance between their lips. "Take it back or I will be forced to show you that I am not a git."

Her eyes flashed with the prospect of a challenge and she pulled out of his hold, stepping away several feet. "Go ahead and try. I bet I'll make it to the Great Hall before you even prove it." With that, she spun around and began sprinting for the Great Hall.

"Oy!" he shouted, running after her, "No running in the hallways! I'll remove House Points as Head Boy!"

"You're a boy alright," she laughed back, reaching the main staircase.

"I am a man and you know it!"

Halfway down the stairs, she dared to stop and look back, quite pleased with the panting silhouette she saw at the top of the steps. Smirking, she shrugged her shoulders as she placed a finger to her lips.

"Really? Then how come you're called Head _Boy_ instead of Man?"

"It's the school that gave the title, not me," he replied, making his way down the stairs.

"Oh really?"

"Yah really."

He reached out to grab her and she bounced down several steps, grinning mischievously. "No way."

Frowning, he moved after her, she always a few steps below him, grinning in a childish manner that made his heart leap with joy. He was so used to seeing her tense and stressed, to see this childish, carefree streak, to watch her jump and bounce about, to laugh high and happily, it made his mind glow with happiness.

It was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld, even though she was annoying the hell out of him.

Dancing at the bottom of the stairs, she waited impatiently for him to chase after her, the wide open doors of the Great Hall just in sight.

"Come on, Draco, I dare you," she laughed, wiggling her hips in a rather enticing manner.

Blood boiled in his veins, and, he hated to admit it, it was not because he was irked. Clenching his fists, he took the last few steps in a slow, sleek walk that he knew made her mouth water. He took his time, taking each step with a careful yet primal stride that he knew resembled a predator on the chase.

Her mouth did fill with water and her blood began to heat in her veins as he walked that sensual walk of his. She hadn't even need to tell him just how arousing the walk was; he just _knew_. He was so sleek, so much like a smooth, powerful predator, and she knew that she was the prey. He planned on killing her, using pleasure and ecstasy to destroy every fibre of her being. And she wasn't going to stop him.

The second his feet hit the floor, she was already rooted to the spot. If drool were dripping out of her mouth right now, she didn't give a damn. He was giving her that dark, stormy gaze he had reserved for her only; the passionate clouds of his eyes, flashing with lightning of arousal.

She loved his eyes…

He reached out to touch her, moving forward to grasp her and pull her into a pleasure-filled kiss, and she didn't want to fight back. She wanted to let him, to let him pull her into the kiss even though they risked being caught by every single classmate and professor in the room beyond.

Just as his fingers brushed her shoulder, bare from her low-necked top, reason filtered back into her mind and she shook her head. Donning her vibrant smile, she twirled on the spot, using the momentum and movement to dance away from him.

She swore she heard him growl out several expletives.

"Come on," she teased, moving towards the Great Hall, wriggling her hips with every step. "We can't be late; Headmistress McGonagall will chide us and besides," she turned to wink at him, "don't you want to eat the delicious Christmas supper?"

Growling, he moved after her, faster and more powerful than before, the predator with its prey in sight and moving in for the kill. She was stuck, immobilized by his fierce stare, oblivious to the curious eyes watching from within the Great Hall.

Gripping her arm, he yanked her body flush against his and a brilliant blush of arousal covered her cheeks. Sweat began to dot her brow and she swallowed thickly, unable to tear her eyes away from his gaze.

"I'm hungry," he snarled softly against her ear, closing his eyes with delight as her body shivered involuntarily. "But it's not for food."

Her eyes slowly shut, lips parting as though expecting to receive a passionate kiss. Instead, just as his lips were a breath away from hers, he pulled back and planted a kiss to her cheek.

"Granger, honestly, pay attention to where you walk," he sighed in an exaggeratingly loud voice that carried across the suddenly silent Great Hall. "That mistletoe could have posed a serious problem if you had been stuck with someone like Goyle."

Pulling away, he rolled his eyes and grinned at her, tugging her into the Great Hall. The blush still covered her cheeks, her body still ached, and she wanted to hit him fifty times over for his damn pathetic kiss, but at the same time, she was both grateful that the mistletoe had not been enchanted and that he had been able to think clearly.

She would have just snogged him senseless, uncaring of those who watched.

Several curious eyes followed them as they took their seats beside Dennis, but they managed to ignore the stares; they had both dealt with the watchful eyes of their fellow classmates several times.

Finally able to catch her bearings, Hermione sat back on her seat and took in the full sight of the Great Hall in Christmas decoration. The twelve tall trees shone brilliantly amidst the soft glow of the candles hovering in the air. The four House tables had been pushed into one, where every student sat together, and she was pleased to see that there was far more inter-house mingling this year than there had been in the past. The teachers were still at their table, some wearing festive garb, such as Hagrid and his Santa Hat or Professor Sprout with a lovely yet gigantic poinsettia attached to her hat.

It was beautiful, she noted with a sigh.

After the Headmistress's opening speech, wishing all of the students a Happy Christmas, the feast began and the tables were laden with a variety of foods, from the typical to the unusual.

Blaise slipped through the seats and managed to squeeze across from Hermione and Draco, pushing right between Seamus and a Gryffindor third year. There were several shocked stares exchanged; why were two Slytherins sitting with the Gryffindors? Perhaps it wasn't because they were Slytherin, but because they were Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy, two of the most notable anti-Gryffindor Slytherins in the school.

"Ah, uh…Zabini, are ye sure ye want to sit there?" Seamus asked, too flabbergasted to be spiteful towards the Slytherin.

The dark-skinned man paused, hand halfway to the potatoes, and turned to look at Seamus with a questioning stare. "I didn't know that we had to sit anywhere specific; it's one table."

"I…I know…" Seamus said, clearly embarrassed, "but…it's just that…ye never really showed any…"

"Love for the Gryffindors? No, I suppose not," he replied, sending a smile to Hermione and Draco. "But, I must admit that myself and another," he gestured to Draco, "have taken a fancy to breaking down old walls."

"Oh…I thought he just sat there 'cause of Hermione being a Head and all," Seamus muttered, face reddening.

"Don't be embarrassed," Draco said, earning a quick glare from the Irish boy. "Blaise and I just figured that, since it's Christmas, it would be the perfect time to make the first…dents in the wall. You can go back to hating me with all your heart after dinner, but for now…how about we try and put the past behind us?" He stretched over, gesturing for a handshake from Seamus.

Dean and Seamus exchanged curious looks and the Slytherin boys could see the wheels turning in their minds. Hell, Draco wondered just why he had even spoken; he could have easily had a nice, quiet meal with Hermione and had been on his way. But, when he glanced over to Hermione and saw the pride in her eyes, he knew that he had made the right move. Tear down the old bridges and build new ones, he thought as Seamus suddenly grinned.

"Ye're alright, mate, for a Slytherin" Seamus said, taking Draco's hand in his own.

Smiling, Draco clenched his hand and shook it. "You seem alright, too, for an Irish boy."

Hermione laughed and watched as Draco and Blaise took turns shaking hands with Dean and Seamus, quite glad to see that there was at least some progression going on with inter-house unity. If only her two friends could be more open about it.

Dinner went out without any event. The food was plentiful and the best that they had ever tasted in years, the discussion ranging from topics about school to sports, and myriad of other subjects that were not insulting or sensitive. Eventually, as their stomachs began to fill and joy was spread through the room, the thoughts and memories of past hatreds began to fade away.

Hermione picked up an exploding cracker from the table, grinning at Draco as she held out the other half to him.

"Want to bet on what it is?" she asked.

"If I'm right, what do I get?" he asked, taking a swig of cranberry juice.

She shrugged. "The item."

He leaned over to her, his hand slipping onto her knee under the table as he rubbed her hand with his thumb. "I don't like that," he whispered. "How about I get something a little more…interesting?"

Shaking her head as she laughed loudly, she slid her free hand under the table to clasp his, rubbing the back of his hand with her fingers. "No, you get the item and nothing else. If I'm right, I get it."

"And what if we're both wrong?"

"I'll give it to Dennis."

"Lame."

"Deal with it," she replied with a grin. "I bet it's a miniature Santa Claus."

"I'm going for a miniature Firebolt," he replied. Smiling broadly, he tugged on the other side of the item, and she laughed loudly as it exploded loudly, sending streamers flying about. Tugging one off of her nose, she let out a loud laugh at the sight before her.

"It's Santa…"

"…riding a Firebolt," Draco finished.

They reached out for the item in unison; both pulled and then stopped, staring at each other. Suddenly, the duo burst into bright and happy laughter at the way their situation turned out.

Eventually, they settled for a game of Rock, Paper, and Scissors, which Hermione won with ease. As a result, she had to listen to Draco's accusations that she had cheated because her hand came out 0.2 seconds after his and she had had ample time to see what he had chosen.

She then replied that he could have easily used his Legilimency to see what she was choosing and that someone that stupid didn't deserve to win the toy.

Just as Draco was about to send back a snide reply, Dennis shoved two bundles of paper into their arms. Pausing, the twosome glanced down at the journals, staring in confusion at the mousey-haired boy who had produced them.

"You remember those pictures I took? Well, remember that I said they for an article I was doing for Christmas spirit? Here's the final copy," Dennis said with a broad, proud grin on his face. "I wanted you two to be the first to get them; I'm passing out the rest with pudding."

Hermione picked up the paper and looked at the front page with a broad grin. 'Heads Join in the Christmas Spirit: Inter-House Unity Promoted' screamed at her in big, bold letters. The picture just under there words was of Hermione and Draco wrapping the garland around the tree. Of course, it had to have been the one where Draco had been stuck behind the fir tree.

"You just _had_ to pick this one, didn't you?" Draco sighed, resisted the urge to smack the smaller boy.

"I thought that it would be funny," Dennis chuckled.

"You do realize that I might have to kill you now, right?"

Swallowing thickly, Dennis paled and Hermione tsked loudly, elbowing Draco in the ribs. "Don't say such things," she chided, turning back to look at the article. "This is wonderful, Dennis."

A faint blush replaced the pallor of the boys' cheeks as Hermione grinned over to him, ignoring the glares Draco was sending her way. "R…really?" Dennis stammered, clearly at a loss for words at the simple praise.

"Yes," she said, flipping through the pages, looking at photograph after photograph of Hermione and Draco decorating the Heads' Tower. "It's beautiful; you've really captured the Christmas spirit with it. I love the little side articles and pictures, with the students playing in the snow, Hagrid and Flitwick decorating the Hall. I think it's something we really needed." Reaching over, she pulled Dennis into a tight hug, unable to stop herself from grinning. "It's amazing."

"You're not just lying to make me feel good, are you?" Dennis asked.

Shaking her head, she pulled away and mussed his hair. "Not at all."

All the while, Blaise was watching with an amused expression as Draco seethed with a mixture of annoyance and jealousy. Hell, the blond's face was practically green as he watched Hermione hug a man other than him. It made Blaise want to get stuck under the mistletoe with Hermione just to spite his friend.

It would prove to be quite entertaining.

Of course, Luna would side with him for it, too, considering that she would find the jealousy quite fun.

Hell, she might even try to make Draco even more jealous by reminding him of exactly what was going on.

Discussion became louder as dessert replaced the main course, particularly with the passing out of the Christmas articles. Several students talked loudly about being in a few photographs building snowmen, while several Gryffindors and Slytherins gawked loudly at the images of Hermione and Draco decorating the Heads' Tower. Seamus choked on his plum pudding while Dean snorted out a large amount of milk as they stared at the front page.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"How did you get him to behave, Hermione?"

She laughed and waved off their questions, still ignoring Draco's glares, until she heard a loud curse beside her.

"You liar!" he shouted.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, completely oblivious to the reason behind this outburst.

He shuffled with his article before shoving it into her face. Squinting due to the close proximity of the writing, she gently pushed it away from her eyes to look over the image with curiosity.

"What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"

His finger made its way in front of the page, jabbing at the picture. "Here, right here, you hanging up that bloody mistletoe."

"Oh, well…what's so special about hanging mistletoe?" she asked, voice slowly cracking as she realized that it was a picture of her using magic to hang it.

"You're using _magic_," he hissed, lowering the paper so that she could see his flashing eyes. "And you gaze me hell whenever _I_ used it."

"Well…you weren't supposed to…"

"That's right…we weren't supposed to use magic, were we? Well, somebody is going to pay for this, aren't they?" he threatened, shaking the paper in front of her eyes.

Turning her head to send a glare Dennis's way, she watched as the boy cowered in his seat, all the while fighting back laughter.

"Draco, calm down," Blaise sighed from across the table. "So she used magic, it's not the end of the world."

"It is when she spent an hour bitching to me about _me_ using magic!" Draco snapped.

"She did?"

"Yes! A whole hour because I was using magic to hang the garland on the bookshelves! Honestly, it's difficult to hang it there! I _needed_ to use magic! She could have just gone up a few steps and hung the mistletoe!"

"I didn't want you to know it was there," she said suddenly. Her hands clapped to her mouth as a blush covered her cheeks as she realized what she had just said.

He narrowed his eyes at her words and leaned over again, tightening his grip on her knee. "And why is that, Ms. Granger?"

She had no idea why, but the way he spoke her name, how he spoke to her like she was a student, it made her knees go weak and her body heat up to extreme temperatures. Losing her breath as her heart began to thunder in her chest, she could do nothing but stare at him, unable to speak, unwilling to move away from him.

Besides, she dimly realized through the fog of need, if she stayed quiet as long as possible, she could avoid answering his question.

"It's a Muggle tradition," Dean suddenly piped in, completely oblivious to the lustful glances being exchanged between the Slytherin Prince and Gryffindor Princess. "You can't know it's there because then you'll just avoid it. You hang it somewhere where people might not see it and leave everything else up to chance."

Seamus nodded his head in agreement, although he didn't know as much as Dean concerning Muggle traditions. He assumed that if he just heartily agreed to whatever Dean said, it was the right thing.

"That's right," Blaise said with a nod, aware of their gazes and clearly affected by the sexual tension as he fidgeted with the collar of his green turtleneck. "Now, if you could just ease off of Hermione, Draco, we could enjoy the rest of this meal."

Pulling back a bit to give Blaise a shocked look, he mouthed silently for a minute before finally dragging out the words. "But she used magic."

"It's not the end of the world," Hermione snapped, thankful for Blaise and Dean and their ability to diffuse the situation, and Blaise's wondrous skill at distracting Draco. She took a moment to mentally compose herself before speaking again. "You used magic _several_ times, if I'm not mistaken."

Huffing loudly, Draco turned to her and muttered softly, "You'll pay for this," before shoving a forkful of cake into his mouth.

Leaning over, in pretence that she wanted to examine the picture he had pointed out, she murmured so that only he could hear, "I look forward to it."

Choking on the cake, he pounded his fist to his chest as his fellow classmates laughed around him, everyone but Blaise unaware of what Hermione could have just said.

* * *

"I'm proud of you," she said softly, separating form the heated kiss.

"Are you now?" he replied, pressing a gently kiss to her temple. "How so?"

Nuzzling his throat, she murmured a softly reply; "Because, you took the first step." Opening her eyes, she smiled at his questioning gaze and continued. "Inter-house unity, Draco. You and Blaise just did the one thing nobody else has done between Slytherin and Gryffindor; you offered a hand of friendship."

"Yeah, well," he said, lowering his lips to her throat, "it seemed a lot better than to have a huge fight break out. Besides," he added as he nipped her flesh, earning a gasp in response, "it's Christmas."

Her arms lifted to drape around his shoulders, tugging him closer, pulling his mouth to hers for another passionate kiss. Their tongues darted out, twining and twirling around each other, performing that timeless mating ritual where they explored each other's mouth until they were satisfied and continued for mere pleasure alone.

He pushed her back against the wall and she stumbled, foot tripping over a mop, letting out a rather loud curse.

"Hush," Draco said, licking her earlobe. "We wouldn't want anyone nearby to hear."

"It's your fault," she mumbled, torn between the pain of her ankle and the pleasure of his lips. "You couldn't wait; you just _had_ to sneak into this damn broom closet."

He laughed against her ear, causing shivers to race down her spine and gooseflesh to rise over her skin. "I believe it's your fault," he said quietly, placing butterfly kisses along the column of her throat, "for wearing this damn thing."

"It's nothing special," she managed to gasp out as his teeth found flesh.

He ran his hands over the red silk skirt, finding the almost imperceptible slit that ran along the left side. "You've been enticing me this whole time," he said, lowering his lips to her collarbone. "This damn skirt, so fucking soft…it hugs your curves, and that little flash of leg you would give…fuck, so hot."

"Again," she whimpered, arching back as her eyes slowly shut, "it's, ah, nothing special."

"And this top," he added, voice lowering into a husky growl as his lips traced the low neckline, from where the sleeves hung off of her shoulders, to the slight bit of cleavage where the scoop neck was lowest. "So unbelievably sexy…it's so tight, so hot, it hugs you and damn…every time you moved, I swore you flashed me your fucking tits." His hand reached up to cup a breast, delighted to feel the nipple hard through the material.

"Draco," she whined, as his other hand traced the bare flesh of her thigh, fingers dancing nearer and nearer to her core.

"I couldn't wait," he growled, lowering the neck to expose her bra-clad breasts. Growling with pleasure, he nuzzled her chest, delighted to see her wearing a lacy green bra. "I didn't know you had any green lingerie."

"It's a bra," she murmured, hands delving into his hair to tangle her fingers in his locks. "And it's festive."

He laughed softly before taking a pink nipple in his mouth. Her grip tightened on his hair as his fingers traced the outline of her panties, and he let out a growling curse when he found them sopping.

"You couldn't wait either," he said softly.

Dragging her nails across his scalp, she shifted under his touch, letting out a low, mewling cry as his fingers slid into her dampness. "Not with you touching me like that," she panted out. "Draco…please don't…"

"Don't what?" he whispered, lifting himself to his full height, sliding her skirt up her thighs.

"Don't stop," she whimpered, opening her eyes to meet his heated gaze. The whiskey orbs had darkened, thick, aged brandy that screamed words of passion to him.

"Never," he groaned, tearing her panties to the side, quickly unbuckling and lowering his pants. "Never, ever." He wrapped her legs around his waist and surged forward, sheathing himself in her tight, velvet warmth.

They made love, slow and heated, taking their time until he could no longer control himself. When she arched back against and whispered his name into the shadows, when her body clenched tightly around his as pleasured consumed her senses, the primal beast within roared for freedom and tore itself from its confinement.

Their panting cries filled the air, the scent of sex permeating through the enclose space, the only sounds where those of their lust-filled cries and the wetness sliding down her thighs. Their hearts beat wild tattoos, beating to the same passionate rhythm as their kisses burned them to the core. He pressed against her, sliding all the way into her soul until they did not know where one ended and the other began. They became united in body, soul and mind.

When her lips met his in a fierce kiss, when her body contracted around his as her nails scored his back, he roared out her name as he spilled his seed inside of her, consumed by the passion of their love-making.

Panting heavily, they leaned against the wall, unable to move for a good while before, in the soft afterglow and silence of sex, they adjusted their clothes. Stepping out of the closet, Draco yanked Hermione over to press her to his side, draping his arm over her shoulders. Rather taken aback by the blatant possessive and loving gesture, she eyed for a moment before leaning into his embrace.

"You know," he said after they walked a few feet, "I hope that you used some form of contraception."

Blushing darkly, she elbowed him in the side. "Thanks for ruining the moment."

Grinning down at her, he enjoyed watching her huff away as she tossed his arm from her shoulders. "Hermione, you do realize what will happen if you get pregnant, right?"

"And you do realize that I'm smarter you're making me out to be," she replied, spinning around to glare at him. Slowly, she blinked as she caught sight of the true concern in his eyes. Sighing heavily, she rubbed the hickey he had placed on her neck and felt a faint blush of embarrassment trace over her cheeks. "Sorry," she mumbled, "I overreacted. I…"

"Oh, hold the press! Hermione Granger, _The_ Hermione Granger, just apologised to _me_!" Draco shouted, arms spread wide for all to see. It was too bad that nobody else was around to watch as Hermione rushed over and stomped on his foot. "What did you do that for?" he shouted, kneeling to hold his injured limb.

"Because you're a git," she said, standing over him with her hands on her hips. "And I will let you know that I am on the pill."

"What's that?'

Rolling her eyes, she sighed heavily at his lack of knowledge concerning all things Muggle-based. "It's a Muggle contraceptive. I take the pill and it prevents me from getting pregnant, and, since wizards, witches and Muggles are made up of the same basic material, it is effective against wizards and Muggles."

"Really? That's amazing!"

"Don't try flattery, Draco, it won't work." Turning around she moved a few feet away. "Are you coming or no?"

"So you can't get pregnant? Because I forgot to perform anti-pregnancy charms and so did you," he pointed out, moving over to her.

"It's barely a 1% chance that I'll get pregnant," she replied. "Besides, I got my period last week, so the chances are even slimmer, since I'm due to ovulate for another few weeks."

"That explains your bitchiness," he said, earning a glare from her.

"Shove it, Draco."

"You know you love my snarky attitude," he added, draping his arm back over her shoulders.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she couldn't help it; she couldn't be angry at him for long when he smiled like that. That bright, joyous boyish grin that made him look so carefree and happy. Grinning back, she leaned into his embrace and wrapped her arm around his waist. "And I know you love my bitchy attitude."

"That depends on whether you hurt me or not."

Digging her elbow into his ribs, she feigned an innocent smile and he burst into laughter. Walking down the hall, the two of them knew that, sooner or later, they would have to face the consequences of their relationship. But right now, at this exact moment in time, they didn't give a damn about the future. All that mattered was that they had each other and they would deal with everything else when it was time.

**Holy cow!**

**I'm done!**

**Finished!**

**Complete!**

**I don't want it to end!!!!!**

**But there will be a sequel!!!!! Which I have already started. Notice how I left the Ron issue open? Well, that's the plot of the sequel; they will have to deal with the consequences of their love and try to get everyone to understand. Oh, I feel like squealing with joy.**

**I want to thank everyone for their support and love, and for staying with me from the very beginning. Thank you all for admitting your obsession with checking you emails every day and for telling me how much my chapters made your days. Every kind word made my days even better. **

**Thank you guys, for everything. I don't know if I would have been able to finish this if it weren't for you. **

**Thank you for the 700+ reviews; I never expected this to get so many responses.**

**Thank you. **

**You guys have been amazing and I love you all so much. I'll be sad to not see my inbox full of your words of supports, encouragement, and kindness. At least until I start the next one, eh?**

**Please, everyone, do not forget to vote for the title of my next fic, as I'm unsure of what to title it. The poll is up on my profile page. **

**Again, thank you all so much for everything!!!!!! I'll miss you guys!!!**

**THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO ALL OF YOU WHO BELIEVED!!!!**

**See you later and take care everyone! **

**Emerald-Kisses**

**Hermione x Draco FOREVER!**

**P.S. I know that some things are a little weird, such as Seamus and Dean accepting of Blaise and Draco, but this will be explained in more detail in my sequel. I kind of jumbled things together a little too much in the epilogue; I had a lot to write, but I didn't want to overdo it or make it too late, so excuse my pushing-together of the last chapter.  
**


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